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https://archive.org/details/lifeofchristOOpapi_0 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


by  / 

GIOVANNI  PAPINI 


Freely  translated  from  the  Italian 

by 

DOROTHY  CANFIELD  FISHER 


NEW  YORK 

HARCOURT,  BRACE  AND  COMPANY 


COPYRIGHT,  1923,  BY 
HARCOURT,  BRACE  AND  COMPANY,  INC, 


PRINTED  IN  THE  U.  S.  A.  BY 
THE  QUINN  a  BODEN  COMPANY 
RAHWAY,  N,  J. 


TRANSLATOR’S  NOTE 


The  King  James  English  version  has  been  followed  in  the  Bible 
quotations  of  this  translation,  except  in  a  few  cases  where  an  altera¬ 
tion  in  the  Revised  Version  was  evidently  the  result  of  a  better 
understanding  of  the  original  Greek  or  Hebrew  text. 

For  the  form  of  proper  names,  the  spelling  of  the  Century  Dic¬ 
tionary  has  been  used  as  a  rule;  for  names  not  given  in  the  Century, 
the  form  current  in  the  usual  standard  works.  Since  this  book  is 
intended  to  be  popular  rather  than  either  scholarly  or  archsological, 
it  was  thought  best  to  use  the  name-forms  best  known  to  most 
readers. 

It  will  be  noted  that  a  number  of  the  quotations  are  mosaics  made 
up  of  phrases  taken  from  different  parts  of  the  Bible  and  put  to¬ 
gether  to  make  one  passage.  This  not  being  the  English  usage  in 
such  matters,  it  seems  desirable  to  call  the  reader’s  attention  to  the 
character  of  such  quotations. 

The  only  other  explanation  which  may  be  necessary  is  in  connec¬ 
tion  with  the  omission  of  occasional  sentences,  paragraphs  and  of 
one  or  two  chapters.  In  the  case  of  individual  sentences  or  phrases, 
they  were  usually  omitted  because  they  contained  an  allusion  sure 
to  be  obscure  to  non-Italian  readers.  A  characteristic  example  of 
such  omissions  is  in  the  scene  of  the  crucifixion  where  Christ  is 
described  as  being  nailed  to  the  cross  with  outstretched  arms  like 
an  owl  nailed  with  outstretched  wings  to  a  barn-door.  This  revolt¬ 
ing  country-side  custom  being  unknown  to  American  readers,  a  refer¬ 
ence  to  it  could  only  cloud  the  passage. 

Since  translators  into  English  who  omit  passages  are  usually 
accused  of  suppressing  valuable  material  which  might  displease  too- 
narrow  Anglo-Saxon  readers,  it  is  perhaps  as  well  to  explain  that 
the  excision  of  paragraphs  here  and  there,  and  of  a  few  chapters, 
is  in  no  sense  an  expurgation,  because  this  Lije  of  Christ  is  very 
much  of  the  same  quality  throughout.  It  simply  seemed  to  me  that 
such  occasional  lightening  of  the  text  would  make  it  more  acceptable 
to  English-speaking  readers,  so  much  less  tolerant  of  long  descrip¬ 
tions  and  minute  discussions  than  Italians. 


TRANSLATOR’S  NOTE 


I  quite  realize  that  this  may  seem  a  slight  and  arbitrary  basis  for 
making  actual  excisions  in  an  author’s  work,  and  I  understand  that 
the  translator  is  not  at  all  responsible  for  the  matter  which  he 
translates,  but  only  for  the  truthfulness  with  which  he  presents  the 
text  given  him  to  set  into  another  language.  I  was  moved  first  by 
the  fact  that  the  passages  omitted  are  of  no  more  importance  than 
any  other  passages  in  the  book;  and  secondly  by  the  author’s  wish 
expressly  stated  in  his  Introduction,  to  have  this  a  readable  book 
which  will  hold  those  who  pick  it  up,  rather  than  to  have  it  a  book 
of  exact  learning  or  great  literature.  This  translation  was  made 
with  the  purpose  of  allowing  the  general  American  reading-public  to 
form  an  opinion  on  a  book  which  has  aroused  a  great  deal  of  dis¬ 
cussion  in  modern  Italy;  and  to  carry  out  this  purpose,  the  occa¬ 
sional  omissions  mentioned  and  a  certain  freedom  in  the  rendering 
of  the  Italian  seemed  to  me  justifiable. 


Dorothy  Canfield  Fisher. 


LIFE  O'F  CHRIST 


INTRODUCTION 


I 

For  five  hundred  years  those  who  call  themselves  free  spirits 
because  they  prefer  prison  life  to  army  service  have  been  try¬ 
ing  desperately  to  kill  Jesus  a  second  time — to  kill  Him  in  the 
hearts  of  men. 

The  army  of  His  enemies  assembled  to  bury  Him  as  soon  as 
they  thought  they  heard  the  death-rattle  of  Christ’s  second 
death.  Presumptuous  donkeys  mistaking  libraries  for  their 
stables,  top-heavy  brains  pretending  to  explore  the  highest 
heavens  in  philosophy’s  drifting  balloon,  professors  poisoned 
by  the  fatal  strong  drink  of  philology  and  metaphysics,  armed 
themselves.  Paraphrasing  the  rallying-cry  of  Peter  the  Her¬ 
mit  to  the  crusaders,  they  shouted  ‘‘Man  wills  it!”  as  they  set 
out  on  their  crusade  against  the  Cross.  Certain  of  them  drew 
on  their  boundless  imaginations  to  evolve  what  they  considered 
proof  positive  of  a  fantastic  theory  that  the  story  of  the  Gospel 
is  no  more  than  a  legend  from  which  we  can  reconstruct  the 
natural  life  of  Jesus  as  a  man,  one-third  prophet,  one-third 
necromancer,  one-third  demagogue,  a  man  who  wrought  no 
miracles  except  the  hypnotic  cure  of  some  obsessed  devotees, 
who  did  not  die  on  the  cross,  but  came  to  Himself  in  the  chill 
of  the  sepulcher  and  reappeared  with  mysterious  airs  to  de¬ 
lude  men  into  believing  that  He  had  risen  from  the  dead. 

Others  demonstrated  as  certainly  as  two  and  two  make 
four  that  Jesus  was  a  myth  developed  in  the  time  of  Augustus 
and  of  Tiberius,  and  that  all  the  Gospels  can  be  reduced  to  a 
clumsy  mosaic  of  prophetic  texts.  Others  conceived  of  Jesus  as 
a  good,  well-meaning  man,  but  too  high-flown  and  fantastic, 
who  went  to  school  to  the  Greeks,  the  Buddhists,  and  the 
Essenes  and  patched  together  His  plagiarisms  as  best  He  could 

3 


4 


INTRODUCTION 


to  support  His  claim  to  be  the  Messiah  of  Israel.  Others 
made  Him  out  to  be  an  unbalanced  humanitarian,  precursor  of 
Rousseau  and  of  divine  democracy;  an  excellent  man  for  his 
time  but  who  to-day  would  be  put  under  the  care  of  an  alien¬ 
ist.  Others  to  get  rid  of  the  subject  once  for  all  took  up  the 
idea  of  the  myth  again,  and  by  dint  of  puzzlings  and  compari¬ 
sons  concluded  that  Jesus  never  was  born  anywhere  in  any 
spot  on  the  globe. 

But  who  could  have  taken  the  place  of  the  man  they  were 
trying  to  dispose  of?  The  grave  they  dug  was  deeper  every 
day,  and  still  they  could  not  bury  Him  from  sight. 

Then  began  the  manufacture  of  religions  for  the  irreligious. 
During  the  whole  of  the  nineteenth  century  they  were  turned 
out  in  couples  and  half  dozens  at  a  time:  the  religion  of  Truth, 
of  the  Spirit,  of  the  Proletariat,  of  the  Hero,  of  Humanity,  of 
Nationalism,  of  Imperialism,  of  Reason,  of  Beauty,  of  Peace, 
of  Sorrow,  of  Pity,  of  the  Ego,  of  the  Future  and  so  on.  Some 
were  only  new  arrangements  of  Christianity,  uncrowned,  spine¬ 
less  Christianity,  Christianity  without  God;  most  of  them  were 
political,  or  philosophic,  trying  to  make  themselves  out  mystics. 
But  faithful  followers  of  these  religions  were  few  and  their 
ardor  faint.  Such  frozen  abstractions,  although  sometimes 
helped  along  by  social  interest  or  literary  passions,  did  not  fill 
the  hearts  which  had  renounced  Jesus. 

Then  attempts  were  made  to  throw  together  facsimiles  of 
religion  which  would  make  a  better  job  of  offering  what  men 
looked  for  in  religion.  Free-Masons,  Spiritualists,  Theoso- 
phists.  Occultists,  Scientists,  professed  to  have  found  the  in¬ 
fallible  substitute  for  Christianity.  But  such  mixtures  of 
moldy  superstition  and  worm-eaten  necromancy,  such  a  hash 
of  musty  rationalism  and  science  gone  bad,  of  simian  sym¬ 
bolism  and  humanitarianism  turned  sour,  such  unskillful  rear¬ 
rangements  of  Buddhism,  manufactured-for-export,  and  of  be¬ 
trayed  Christianity,  contented  some  thousands  of  leisure-class 
women,  of  condensers  of  the  void  .  .  .  and  went  no  further. 

In  the  meantime,  partly  in  a  German  parsonage  and  partly 
in  a  professor’s  chair  in  Switzerland,  the  last  Anti-Christ  was 
making  ready.  “Jesus,”  he  said,  coming  down  from  the  Alps 


INTRODUCTION 


5 


in  the  sunshine,  mortified  mankind;  sin  is  beautiful, 

violence  is  beautiful.  Everything  that  says  ‘yes’  to  Life  is 
beautiful.”  And  Zarathushtra,  after  having  thrown  into  the 
Mediterranean  the  Greek  texts  of  Leipzig  and  the  works  of 
Machiavelli,  began  to  gambol  at  the  feet  of  the  statue  of 
Dionysius  with  the  grace  that  might  be  expected  of  a  German, 
born  of  a  Lutheran  minister,  who  had  just  stepped  down  from 
a  chair  in  a  Swiss  University.  But,  although  his  songs  were 
sweet  to  the  ear,  he  never  succeeded  in  explaining  exactly  what 
he  meant  when  he  spoke  of  this  adorable  “Life”  to  which  men 
should  sacrifice  such  a  living  pa,rt  of  themselves  as  their  need 
to  repress  their  own  animal  instincts:  nor  could  he  ever  say  in 
what  way  Christ,  the  true  Christ  of  the  Gospels,  opposed  Him¬ 
self  to  life.  He  who  wanted  to  make  life  higher  and  happy.  And 
the  poor  S5^hilitic  Anti-Christ,  when  insanity  was  close  upon 
him,  signed  his  last  letter,  “The  Crucified  One.” 

2 

And  still  Christ  is  not  yet  expelled  from  the  earth  either  by 
the  ravages  of  time  or  by  the  efforts  of  men.  His  memory  is 
everywhere:  on  the  walls  of  the  churches  and  the  schools,  on 
the  tops  of  bell-towers  and  of  mountains,  in  street-shrines,  at 
the  heads  of  beds  and  over  tombs,  thousands  of  crosses  bring 
to  mind  the  death  of  the  Crucified  One.  Take  away  the  fres¬ 
coes  from  the  churches,  carry  off  the  pictures  from  the 
altars  and  from  the  houses,  and  the  life  of  Christ  fills  museums 
and  picture-galleries.  Throw  away  breviaries  and  missals,  and 
you  find  His  name  and  His  words  in  all  the  books  of  literature. 
Even  oaths  are  an  involuntary  remembrance  of  His  presence. 

When  all  is  said  and  done,  Christ  is  an  end  and  a  beginning, 
an  abyss  of  divine  mystery  between  two  divisions  of  human 
history*  Paganism  and  Christianity  can  never  be  welded  to¬ 
gether.  Before  Christ  and  After  Christ!  Our  era,  our  civiliza¬ 
tion,  our  life,  begins  with  the  birth  of  Christ.  We  can  seek 
out  what  comes  before  Christ,  we  can  acquire  information 
about  it,  but  it  is  no  longer  ours,  it  is  signed  with  other  signs, 
limited  by  other  systems,  no  longer  moves  our  passions;  it  may 


6 


INTRODUCTION 


be  beautiful,  but  it  is  dead.  Caesar  was  more  talked  about  in 
his  time  than  Jesus,  and  Plato  taught  more  science  than  Christ. 
People  still  discuss  the  Roman  ruler  and  the  Greek  philosopher, 
but  who  nowadays  is  hotly  for  Caesar  or  against  him;  and 
where  now  are  the  Platonists  and  the  anti-Platonists? 

Christ,  on  the  contrary,  is  still  living  among  us.  There  are 
still  people  who  love  Him  and  who  hate  Him.  There  is  a 
passion  for  the  love  of  Christ  and  a  passion  for  His  destruction. 
The  fury  of  so  many  against  Him  is  a  proof  that  He  is  not 
dead.  The  very  people  who  devote  themselves  to  denying  His 
ideas  and  His  existence  pass  their  lives  in  bringing  His  name 
to  memory. 

We  live  in  the  Christian  era,  and  it  is  not  yet  finished.  If 
we  are  to  understand  the  world,  our  life,  ourselves,  we  must 
refer  to  Christ.  Every  age  must  re-write  its  own  Gospel. 
More  than  any  other,  our  own  age  has  so  re-written  its  own 
Gospel,  and  therefore  the  author  ought  perhaps  to  justify  him¬ 
self  for  having  written  this  book.  But  the  justification,  if 
there  is  need  of  such,  will  be  plain  to  those  who  read  it. 

There  never  was  a  time  more  cut  off  from  Christ  than  ours, 
nor  one  which  needed  Him  more.  But  to  find  Him,  the  old 
books  are  not  enough.  No  life  of  Christ,  even  if  it  were  writ¬ 
ten  by  an  author  of  greater  genius  than  any  who  has  ever 
lived,  could  be  more  beautiful  and  perfect  than  the  Gospels. 
The  candid  sobriety  of  the  first  four  stories  can  never  be  im¬ 
proved  upon  by  any  miracle  of  style  and  poetry.  And  we 
can  add  very  little  to  the  information  they  give  us. 

But  who  reads  the  Gospels  nowadays?  And  who  could 
read  them,  even  if  he  set  himself  at  it.  Glosses  of  philologists, 
comments  of  the  exegetical  experts,  varying  readings  of  erudite 
marginal  editors,  emendations  of  letters,  such  things  can  pro¬ 
vide  entertainment  for  patient  brains.  But  the  heart  needs 
something  more  than  this. 

Every  generation  has  its  preoccupations  and  its  thoughts, 
and  its  own  insanities.  The  old  Gospels  must  be  re-translated 
for  the  help  of  the  lost.  If  Christ  is  to  remain  alive  in  the  life 
of  men,  eternally  present  with  us,  it  is  absolutely  necessary  to 
resuscitate  Him  from  time  to  time;  not  to  color  Him  with  the 


INTRODUCTION 


7 


dyes  of  the  present  day,  but  to  represent  with  new  words,  with 
references  to  things  now  happening.  His  eternal  truth  and  His 
never-changing  story. 

The  world  is  full  of  such  bookish  resuscitations  of  Christ, 
learned  or  literary:  but  it  seems  to  the  author  of  this  one  that 
many  are  forgotten,  and  others  are  not  suitable.  To  write  the 
history  of  the  stories  of  Christ  would  take  another  book  and 
one  even  longer  than  this  one.  But  it  is  easy  to  divide  into  two 
great  divisions  those  which  are  best  known  and  most  read: 
(i)  Those  written  by  orthodox  authors  for  the  use  of  the 
orthodox;  (2)  and  those  written  by  scientists  for  the  use  of 
non-believers.  Neither  the  first  nor  the  second  can  satisfy 
those  who  are  seeking  in  such  lives  for  Life. 

3 

The  lives  of  Jesus  written  for  pious  readers  exhale,  almost 
all  of  them,  a  sort  of  withered  mustiness,  the  very  first  page  of 
which  repels  readers  used  to  more  delicate  and  substantial  fare. 
There  is  an  odor  of  burnt-out  lamp-wick,  a  smell  of  stale  in¬ 
cense  and  of  rancid  oil  that  sticks  in  the  throat.  You  cannot 
draw  a  long,  free  breath.  The  reader  acquainted  with  the  biog¬ 
raphies  of  great  men  written  with  greatness,  and  possessing 
some  notions  of  his  own  about  the  art  of  writing  and  of  poetry, 
who  incautiously  picks  up  one  of  these  pious  books,  feels  his 
heart  fail  him  as  he  advances  into  this  flabby  prose,  torpid, 
tangled,  patched  up  with  commonplaces  that  were  alive  a  thou¬ 
sand  years  ago,  but  which  are  now  dead  and  petrified.  It  is 
even  worse  when  these  worn-out  old  hacks  try  to  break  into 
the  lyric  gallop  or  the  trot  of  eloquence.  Their  faded  graces, 
their  ornamentations  of  countrified  purisms,  of  ^‘fine  writing” 
fit  for  provincial  academies,  their  artificial  warmth  cooled 
down  to  tepidity  by  unctuous  dignity,  discourage  the  endur¬ 
ance  of  the  boldest  reader.  And  when  they  are  not  engulfed 
in  the  thorny  mysteries  of  scholasticism,  they  fall  into 
the  roaring  eloquence  of  the  Sunday  sermon.  In  short, 
these  are  books  written  for  readers  who  believe  in  Jesus,  that 
is,  for  those  who  could,  in  a  way,  get  along  without  them.  But 


8 


INTRODUCTION 


ordinary  people,  indifferent  people,  irreverent  people,  artists, 
those  accustomed  to  the  greatness  of  Antiquity  and  to  the  nov¬ 
elty  of  Modernity,  never  look  at  even  the  best  of  such  volumes; 
or  if  they  pick  them  up,  let  them  fall  at  once.  And  yet  these 
are  the  very  people  whom  such  a  book  should  win  because 
they  are  those  whom  Christ  has  lost,  they  are  those  who  to¬ 
day  form  public  opinion  and  count  in  the  world. 

Another  sort  of  books,  those  written  by  the  learned  men  for 
the  neutrals,  succeed  even  less  in  turning  towards  Christ  the 
souls  that  have  not  learned  the  way  to  Christianity.  In  the 
first  place  they  almost  never  have  any  intention  of  doing  this, 
and  in  the  second  place  they  themselves,  almost  all  of  them, 
are  among  those  who  ought  to  be  brought  back  to  the  true  and 
living  Christ.  Furthermore,  their  method  which  is,  as  they  say, 
historical,  scientific,  critical,  leads  them  to  pause  over  texts 
and  external  facts,  to  establish  them  or  to  eliminate  them, 
rather  than  to  consider  the  meaning  and  the  value  and  the 
light  which,  if  they  would,  they  could  find  in  those  texts  and 
those  facts.  Most  of  them  try  to  find  the  man  in  the  God,  the 
actual  external  facts  of  the  miracles,  the  legend  in  the  tradi¬ 
tion  and,  above  all,  they  are  on  the  look-out  for  interpolations, 
for  falsifications  and  apocrypha  in  the  first  part  of  Christian 
literature.  Those  who  do  not  go  so  far  as  to  deny  that  Jesus 
ever  lived,  take  away  from  the  testimony  about  Him  every¬ 
thing  they  can,  and  by  dint  of  “ifs’’  and  ‘‘buts”  and  doubts 
and  hypotheses,  so  far  from  writing  any  definite  story  them¬ 
selves,  succeed  in  spoiling  the  story  contained  in  the  Gospels. 
In  short,  such  historians  with  all  their  confusion  of  fret-work 
and  bunglings,  with  all  the  resources  of  textual  criticism,  of 
mythology,  of  paleography,  of  archeology,  of  Greek  and 
Hebrew  philology,  only  triturate  and  liquefy  the  simple  life  of 
Christ.  The  most  logical  conclusion  to  draw  from  their  ram¬ 
bling  incoherent  talk  is  that  Jesus  never  did  appear  on  the 
earth,  or  if  by  chance  He  really  did  appear,  that  we  know 
nothing  certain  about  His  life.  Christianity  still  exists,  of 
course,  in  spite  of  such  conclusions,  and  Christianity  is  a  fact 
not  easily  disregarded.  To  offset  this  fact  the  best  these  ene¬ 
mies  of  Christ  can  do  is  to  search  through  the  Orient  and  Oc- 


INTRODUCTION 


9 


cident  for  the  origins,  as  they  say,  of  Christianity,  their  inten¬ 
tion  being  quite  openly  to  parcel  it  out  among  its  prede¬ 
cessors,  Jewish,  Greek,  for  that  matter  Hindu  and  Chinese,  as 
if  to  say:  “You  see,  your  Jesus  at  bottom  was  not  only  a  man, 
but  a  poor  specimen  of  a  man,  since  he  said  nothing  that  the 
human  race  did  not  know  by  heart  before  his  day.’’ 

One  might  ask  these  deniers  of  miracles  how  they  explain 
the  miracle  of  a  syncretism  of  old  traditions  which  has  grown 
about  the  memory  of  an  obscure  plagiarist,  an  immense  move¬ 
ment  of  men,  of  thoughts,  of  institutions,  so  strong,  over¬ 
whelmingly  strong,  as  to  change  the  face  of  the  earth  for  cen¬ 
turies.  But  this  question,  and  many  others,  we  will  not  put  to 
them,  at  least  for  the  present. 

In  short,  when  in  looking  for  light  we  pass  from  the  bad 
taste  of  the  devotional  compilers  to  the  writers  who  monopolize 
“historic  truth”  we  fall  from  pietistic  boredom  into  sterile  con¬ 
fusion.  The  pious  writers  are  unable  to  lead  men  to  Christ, 
and  the  “historians”  lose  Him  in  controversy.  And  neither  one 
nor  the  other  tempt  men  to  read.  They  may  differ  from  each 
other  in  matters  of  faith,  but  they  resemble  each  other  in  the 
uncouthness  of  their  style.  And  unctuous  rhetoric  is  as  distaste¬ 
ful  to  cultivated  minds,  even  superficially  acquainted  with  the 
divine  idyll  and  divine  tragedy  of  the  Gospels,  as  is  the  cold¬ 
heartedness  of  learned  writers.  So  true  is  all  this  that  even  to¬ 
day,  after  the  passage  of  so  many  years,  after  so  many  changes 
of  taste  and  opinion,  the  only  life  of  Jesus  which  is  read  by 
many  lay  readers  is  that  of  the  apostate  priest,  Renan,  a  book 
which  all  true  Christians  dislike  for  its  dilettante  attitude,  in¬ 
sulting  even  in  praise,  and  which  every  real  historian  distrusts 
because  of  its  compromises  and  its  insufficient  scholarship. 
But  although  this  book  of  Renan’s  seems  written  by  a  skep¬ 
tical  romancer,  wedded  to  philology,  or  by  a  Semitic  scholar 
suffering  from  literary  nostalgia,  it  has  the  merits  of  being 
really  “written,”  that  is,  of  getting  itself  read,  even  by  those 
who  are  neither  believers  nor  specialists. 

To  make  itself  readily  read  is  not  the  only  value  nor  the 
greatest  which  a  book  can  have,  and  the  writer  who  contents 
himself  with  that  alone  and  who  thinks  of  nothing  else  shows 


IO 


INTRODUCTION 


that  vanity  rather  than  ardor  is  his  motive-power.  But  let  us 
admit  that  to  be  readable  is  a  merit  and  not  a  small  merit  for 
a  book^  especially  when  it  is  not  intended  as  a  tool  for  study, 
but  when  it  aims  at  the  mark  called,  “moving  the  emotions,’’ 
or  to  give  it  its  real  name,  when  its  aim  is  to  “transform  human 
beings.” 

The  author  of  the  present  boot  finds — and  if  he  is  mistaken 
he  will  be  very  glad  to  be  convinced  by  any  one  who  sees  more 
clearly  than  he — that  in  the  thousands  of  books  which  tell  the 
story  of  Jesus,  there  is  not  one  which  seeks,  instead  of  dog¬ 
matic  proofs  and  learned  discussions,  to  give  food  fit  for  the 
soul,  for  the  needs  of  men  of  our  time. 

The  book  we  need  is  a  living  book,  to  make  Christ  more  liv¬ 
ing,  to  set  Christ  the  Ever-Living  with  loving  vividness  before 
the  eyes  of  living  men,  to  m^ake  us  feel  Him  as  actually  and 
eternally  present  in  our  lives.  We  need  a  book  which  would 
show  Him  in  all  His  living  and  present  greatness — perennial 
and  yet  belonging  intimately  to  us  moderns — to  those  who  have 
scorned  and  refused  Him,  to  those  who  do  not  love  Him  be¬ 
cause  they  have  never  seen  His  true  face;  which  would  show 
how  much  there  is  of  supernatural  and  symbolic  in  the  human, 
obscure,  simple  and  humble  beginning  of  His  life,  and  how 
much  familiar  humanity,  how  much  simple-hearted  plainness 
shines  out  when  He  becomes  a  Heavenly  Deliverer  at  the  end 
of  His  life,  when  He  becomes  a  martyr  and  rises  again  divinely 
from  the  dead.  We  need  a  book  which  would  show  in  that 
tragic  epic,  written  by  both  Heaven  and  earth,  the  many  teach¬ 
ings  suited  to  us,  suited  to  our  time  and  to  our  life,  which  can 
be  found  there,  not  only  in  what  Christ  said,  but  in  the  very 
succession  of  events  which  begin  in  the  stable  at  Bethlehem 
and  end  in  the  cloud  over  Bethany.  A  book  written  by  a  lay¬ 
man  for  the  laymen  who  are  not  Christians  or  who  are  only 
superficially  Christians,  a  book  without  the  affectations  of  pro¬ 
fessional  piety  and  without  the  insipidity  of  scientific  litera¬ 
ture,  called  “scientific”  only  because  it  perpetually  fears  to 
make  the  slightest  affirmation.  A  book,  in  short,  written  by  a 
modern  writer  who  respects  and  understands  his  art,  and 
knows  how  to  hold  the  attention  even  of  the  hostile. 


INTRODUCTION 


II 


4 

The  author  of  this  book  does  not  pretend  to  have  written 
such  a  book;  but  at  least  he  has  tried  as  far  as  his  capacities 
can  take  him,  to  draw  near  to  that  ideal. 

Let  him  state  at  once  with  sincere  humility  that  he  has  not 
written  a  “scientific  history.’’  In  the  first  place  because  he 
could  not;  in  any  case  because  he  would  not,  even  if  he  had 
possessed  all  the  necessary  learning.  He  warns  the  reader, 
among  other  things,  that  this  book  was  written  (almost  all  of 
it)  in  the  country,  in  a  distant  and  sparsely  settled  country¬ 
side  with  very  few  books  at  hand,  with  no  advice  from  friends 
or  revision  from  masters.  It  will,  therefore,  never  be  cited  by 
higher  criticism  or  by  those  who  scrutinize  original  sources 
with  a  microscope;  but  that  is  of  little  importance  compared 
to  the  possibility  of  its  doing  a  little  good  to  a  few  souls,  even 
to  one  alone.  For  as  he  has  explained,  the  author  wishes  this 
book  to  be  another  coming  of  Christ  and  not  another  burial. 

The  author  bases  his  book  on  the  Gospels  ;  as  much,  let  it  be 
understood,  on  the  synoptic  Gospels  as  on  the  fourth.  He 
confesses  that  he  has  no  interest  in  the  endless  dissertations 
and  disputes  over  the  authority  of  the  four  Gospels,  over  their 
dates  and  interpolations,  over  their  mutual  relationship,  and 
over  their  probabilities  and  sources.  We  have  no  older  nor  no 
other  documents,  contemporaneous,  Jewish  or  Pagan,  which 
would  permit  us  to  correct  them  or  to  deny  them.  He  who 
goes  into  all  this  minute  investigation  can  destroy  many  doc¬ 
trines,  but  he  cannot  advance  the  true  knowledge  of  Christ  by 
a  single  step.  Christ  is  in  the  Gospels,  in  the  apostolic  tradi¬ 
tion,  and  in  the  Church.  Outside  of  that  is  darkness  and  si¬ 
lence.  He  who  accepts  the  four  Gospels  must  accept  them 
wholly,  entire,  syllable  by  syllable, — or  else  reject  them  from 
the  first  to  the  last  and  say,  “We  know  nothing.”  To  attempt 
in  these  texts  to  differentiate  what  is  sure  from  what  is  prob¬ 
able,  what  is  historic  from  what  is  legendary,  what  is  original 
from  what  has  been  added,  the  primitive  from  the  dogmatic 
is  a  hopeless  undertaking,  which  almost  always  ends  in  de¬ 
feat,  in  the  despair  of  the  readers,  who  in  the  midst  of  this 


12 


INTRODUCTION 


hubbub  of  contradictory  systems,  changing  from  one  decade 
to  another,  end  by  understanding  nothing  and  by  letting  it  all 
drop.  The  most  famous  New  Testament  authorities  agree  on 
only  one  thing,  that  the  Church  was  able  to  select  in  the 
great  mass  of  primitive  literature  the  oldest  Gospels  thought 
up  to  that  time  to  be  the  most  reliable.  No  more  need  be 
asked. 

In  addition  to  the  Gospels,  the  author  of  this  book  has  had 
before  his  eyes  “the  Logia  and  the  Agrapha,’^  which  seemed  to 
have  the  most  evangelical  flavor,  and  also  some  apocryphal 
texts  used  with  judgment.  And  finally  nine  or  ten  modern 
books  which  he  had  at  hand. 

It  seems  to  him  as  well  as  he  can  judge,  that  he  has  departed 
sometimes  from  ordinary  ideas  and  that  he  has  painted  a 
Christ  who  has  not  always  the  perfunctory  features  of  the 
ordinary  holy  picture,  but  he  is  not  sure  of  this  nor  does  he 
value  any  new  thing  which  may  be  in  this  book,  written  more 
in  the  hope  of  having  it  a  good  book  than  of  having  it  a  beau¬ 
tiful  book.  It  is  rather  more  likely  that  he  has  repeated  things 
already  said  by  others,  of  which  he  in  his  ignorance  has  never 
heard.  In  these  matters,  the  subject,  which  is  truth,  is  un¬ 
changeable  and  there  can  be  nothing  new  except  the  manner 
of  presenting  it  in  a  form  more  efficacious  because  it  may  be 
more  easily  grasped. 

Just  as  he  has  tried  to  avoid  the  thorns  of  erudite  criticism 
on  the  one  hand,  he  has  no  pretensions,  on  the  other,  of  going 
too  deeply  into  the  mysteries  of  theology.  He  has  approached 
Jesus  with  the  simple-heartedness  of  longing  and  of  love,  just 
as  during  His  life-time  He  was  approached  by  the  fishermen  of 
Capernaum,  who  were,  fortunately  for  them,  even  more  igno¬ 
rant  than  the  author.  Holding  loyally  to  the  words  of  the 
orthodox  Gospels  and  to  the  dogmas  of  the  Catholic  Church, 
he  has  tried  to  represent  those  dogmas  and  those  words  in  un¬ 
usual  ways,  in  a  style  violent  with  contrasts  and  with  fore-  ^ 
shortening,  colored  with  crude  and  vividly  felt  words,  to  see  if  j 
he  could  startle  modern  souls  used  to  highly  colored  error,  into  | 
seeing  the  truth. 

The  author  claims  the  right  to  take  to  himself  the  words  of 


1 


INTRODUCTION 


13 


St.  Paul:  “To  them  that  are  without  law,  I  became  as  without 
law  that  I  might  gain  them  that  are  without  law.  To  the  weak 
became  I  as  weak  that  I  might  gain  the  weak;  I  am  made  all 
things  to  all  men,  that  I  might  by  all  means  save  some.  And 
this  I  do  for  the  GospeFs  sake.” 

The  author  has  tried  to  present  not  only  the  Hebrew  world, 
but  the  world  of  antiquity,  hoping  to  show  how  new  and  how 
great  Christ  was  compared  to  those  who  preceded  Him.  He 
has  not  always  followed  the  chronological  order  of  events,  be¬ 
cause  it  better  suited  his  aims,  which  are  not  (as  he  has  said) 
entirely  historical,  to  gather  togéther  certain  groups  of  thoughts 
and  facts  and  to  throw  a  stronger  light  on  them  instead  of 
leaving  them  to  be  scattered  here  and  there  in  the  course  of 
the  narrative. 

In  order  not  to  give  a  pedantic  look  to  the  book  he  has  sup¬ 
pressed  all  references  to  quotations  and  has  used  no  foot-notes. 
He  did  not  wish  to  seem  what  he  is  not,  a  learned  bibliographer, 
and  he  did  not  wish  to  have  his  work  smell,  however  faintly,  of 
the  oil  of  the  lamp  of  erudition.  Those  who  understand  these 
things  will  recognize  the  un-named  authorities,  and  the  solu¬ 
tions  which  the  author  has  chosen  when  confronted  with  cer¬ 
tain  problems  of  concordance.  The  others,  those  who  are  only 
trying  to  see  how  Christ  appeared  to  one  of  them,  would  be 
wearied  by  the  apparatus  of  textual  learning  and  by  disserta¬ 
tions  at  the  bottom  of  the  pages.  One  word  only  must  be  said 
here  in  connection  with  the  sinning  woman  weeping  at  Jesus’ 
feet:  although  it  is  generally  understood  from  the  Gospel  story 
that  there  were  two  different  scenes  and  two  different  women, 
the  author  for  artistic  purposes  has  allowed  himself  to  treat 
them  as  one,  and  he  asks  a  pardon  for  this  which  he  hopes 
will  be  easily  granted  since  there  is  no  question  of  dogma 
involved. 

He  must  warn  the  reader  that  he  refrained  from  developing 
the  episodes  where  the  Virgin  Mother  appears,  in  order  not  to 
lengthen  too  greatly  a  book  already  long,  and  especially  be¬ 
cause  of  the  difficulty  of  showing  by  passing  allusions  all  the 
rich  wealth  of  religious  beauty  which  is  in  the  figijre  of  Mary. 
Another  volume  would  be  necessary  for  that,  and  the  writer  is 


J4 


INTRODUCTION 


tempted  to  try  if  God  grants  him  life  and  sight  to  ^‘say  of  her 
what  was  never  said  of  any  woman/^ 

Those  who  are  experienced  in  reading  the  Gospels  will  realize 
that  other  things  of  lesser  importance  have  been  shortened  and 
some  others,  on  the  contrary,  lengthened  more  than  is  custom¬ 
ary.  Some  have  seemed  to  the  writer  more  appropriate  than 
the  others  for  his  purpose,  which  is,  to  use  an  expression 
now  out  of  date  and  distasteful  to  sophisticated  people,  the 
purpose  of  edification. 


5 

This  book  is  meant  to  be  a  book — the  author  knows  how  he 
will  be  jeered  at — of  edification.  Not  in  the  meaning  of  me¬ 
chanical  bigotry,  but  in  the  human  and  manly  meaning  of  the 
^^refashioning’^  of  souls. 

To  build,  or  as  the  old  word  expressed  it,  to  edify  a  house, 
is  a  great  and  holy  action  ;  to  make  a  shelter  against  winter  and 
the  night.  But  to  build  up  or  edify  a  soul,  to  construct  it  with 
stones  of  truth  !  When  there  is  talk  of  edification  you  see  in  it 
only  an  abstract  word  worn  out  with  use.  To  edify  in  the 
original  meaning  was  to  construct  walls.  Who  of  you  has  ever 
thought  of  all  that  goes  into  the  making  of  a  house,  a  house 
firm  on  the  earth,  and  honestly  built,  with  well-plumbed  walls, 
with  a  good  sheltering  roof?  Think  of  all  that  is  needed  to 
build  a  house:  well-squared  stones,  well-baked  bricks,  sound 
beams,  freshly-burned  lime,  fine,  clean  sand,  cement  that  has 
not  lost  its  strength  through  age!  And  then  patient,  expert 
workmen  to  put  each  thing  in  its  place,  to  join  the  stones  per¬ 
fectly  one  by  one,  not  to  put  too  much  water  or  too  much  sand 
in  the  mortar,  to  keep  the  walls  damp,  to  know  how  to  fill  in 
the  chinks,  to  smooth  the  rough-cast  plaster!  All  this  so  that 
a  house  may  go  up  day  by  day  towards  heaven,  a  man’s  house, 
the  house  where  he  will  bring  his  wife,  the  house  where  his 
children  will  be  born,  where  he  can  invite  his  friends. 

But  most  people  think  that  to  make  a  book  it  is  enough  to 
have  an  idea  and  then  to  take  so  many  words  and  put  them 
together.  Not  so.  A  kiln  of  tiles,  a  pile  of  rocks,  are  not  a 


INTRODUCTION 


15 


house.  To  build  up  a  house,  to  build  up  a  book,  to  build  up  a 
soul,  are  undertakings  which  require  all  of  a  man’s  power. 
The  aim  of  this  book  is  to  build  up  Christian  souls  because  that 
seems  to  the  writer  at  this  time  in  this  country  an  urgent  need. 
He  who  has  written  it  cannot  now  say  whether  he  will  succeed 
or  not.  But  readers  will  recognize,  he  hopes,  that  it  is  a  real 
book  and  not  a  collection  of  scraps,  not  an  assemblage  of  little 
pieces,  a  book  that  may  be  mediocre  and  mistaken,  but  which 
is  constructed:  a  work  built  up  as  well  as  edifying  or  building 
up;  a  book  with  its  own  plan  a,jid  its  own  architecture,  a  real 
house  with  its  atrium  and  its  architraves,  with  its  divisions  and 
its  vaultings — and  also  with  some  openings  towards  heaven  and 
over  the  fields. 

The  author  of  this  book  is,  or  would  fain  be,  an  artist,  and  in 
writing  it  he  could  not  forget  his  own  character.  But  he  de¬ 
clares  here  that  he  has  not  wished  to  create  a  work  of  Belles 
Lettres,  or  as  they  say  now,  of  ‘^pure  poetry,”  because  at  least 
for  this  time  truth  is  dearer  to  him  than  beauty.  But  if  his 
powers  as  a  writer,  however  feeble  they  may  be,  as  a  writer 
loving  his  art,  are  sufficient  to  persuade  one  more  soul,  he  will 
be  more  thankful  than  ever  in  his  life  for  the  gifts  which  he  has 
received.  His  inclination  towards  poetry  has  perhaps  been  of 
use  to  him  in  rendering  fresher  and  more  vivid  the  picture  of 
those  things  which  seem  petrified  in  the  usual  hieratic  conse¬ 
crated  wording. 

The  man  of  imagination  sees  everything  as  though  it  were 
new:  every  great  star,  wheeling  in  the  night,  might  lead  you  to 
the  house  hiding  the  Son  of  God;  every  stable  has  a  manger 
which,  filled  with  dry  hay  and  clean  straw,  might  become  a 
cradle;  every  bare  mountain  top  flaming  with  light  in  the  golden 
mornings  above  the  still  somber  valley,  might  be  Sinai  or  Mt. 
Tabor:  in  the  fires  in  the  stubble,  or  in  the  charcoal  kilns  shin¬ 
ing  on  the  evening  hills  you  can  see  the  flame  lighted  by  God  to 
guide  you  in  the  desert;  and  the  column  of  smoke  rising  from 
the  poor  man’s  hearth  shows  the  road  from  afar  to  the  return¬ 
ing  laborer.  The  ass  who  carries  the  shepherdess  just  come 
from  her  milking  is  the  one  ridden  towards  the  tents  of  Israel, 
or  the  one  which  went  down  towards  Jerusalem  for  the  feast  of 


i6 


INTRODUCTION 


the  Passover.  The  dove  cooing  on  the  edge  of  the  slate  roof  is 
the  same  that  announced  the  end  of  the  great  punishment  to 
the  Patriarch,  or  the  same  that  descended  on  the  waters  of  the 
Jordan.  For  the  poet  everything  is  of  equal  value  and  omni¬ 
present,  and  all  history  is  sacred  history. 

The  author  begs  the  pardon  of  his  austere  contemporaries  if 
rather  more  than  is  fitting  he  lets  himself  go  to  what  is  nowa¬ 
days  disdainfully  dubbed  eloquence,  illegitimate  issue  of  pom¬ 
pous  rhetoric  and  illegitimate  mother  of  overemphasis  and 
other  dropsical  growths  of  elocution. 

He  knows  very  well  that  eloquence  displeases  moderns 
as  bright  red  cloth  displeases  the  fine  city  lady,  as  the  organ  in 
a  church  displeases  minuet  dancers,  but  he  has  not  always  suc¬ 
ceeded  in  dispensing  with  it.  When  it  is  not  borrowed  decla¬ 
mation,  eloquence  is  the  ardent  expression  of  faith,  and  in  an 
era  which  has  no  faith  there  is  no  place  for  eloquence.  And 
yet  the  life  of  Jesus  is  such  a  drama  and  such  a  poem  that  in 
place  of  the  words,  worn  thread-bare,  which  we  have  at  our  dis¬ 
position,  we  should  use  only  those  “torn  and  sentient’’  words 
of  which  Passavanti  speaks.  Bossuet,  who  knew  something 
about  eloquence,  once  wrote:  “Plut  à  Dieu  que  nous  puissions 
détacher  de  notre  parole  tout  se  qui  delecte  I’esprit,  tout  ce  qui 
surprend  I’imagination,  pour  ne  laisser  que  la  verité  toute 
simple,  la  seule  force  et  l’efficace  toute  pure  du  Saint  Esprit, 
nulle  pensée  que  pour  convertir.” 

Very  true,  but  difficult  to  achieve. 

At  times  the  author  of  this  book  would  have  liked  to  possess 
an  eloquence  vivid  and  powerful  enough  to  shake  all  hearts,  an 
imagination  rich  enough  to  transport  the  soul  by  enchantment 
into  a  world  of  light,  of  gold  and  of  fire.  Yet  at  other  times  he 
almost  regretted  that  he  was  too  much  the  artist,  too  much  the 
man  of  letters,  too  much  given  to  inlaying  and  chiseling,  and 
that  he  did  not  know  how  to  leave  things  in  their  powerful 
nudity. 

Only  when  he  has  finished  a  book  does  an  author  know  how 
he  ought  to  have  written  it.  When  he  has  set  down  the  last 
word,  he  ought  to  turn  back,  begin  at  the  beginning,  and  do  it 
all  over  again  with  the  experience  acquired  in  the  work.  But 


INTRODUCTION  17 

who  has,  I  do  not  say  the  energy  to  do  this,  but  even  the  con¬ 
ception  that  it  ought  to  be  done. 

If  on  some  of  its  pages  this  book  sounds  like  a  sermon,  there 
is  no  great  harm  done.  In  these  days  when  for  the  most  part 
only  women,  and  an  occasional  old  man,  go  to  listen  to  the 
preaching  in  churches,  where  mediocre  things  are  often  said  in 
a  mediocre  manner,  but  where  more  often  still,  truths  are  re¬ 
peated  which  ought  not  to  be  forgotten,  we  must  think  of  the 
others,  of  the  scholarly  men,  of  “intellectuals,”  of  the  sophisti¬ 
cated,  of  those  who  never  enter  a  church,  but  sometimes  step 
into  a  book-shop.  For  nothing  in  the  world  would  they  listen 
to  a  friar’s  sermon,  but  they  condescend  to  read  it  when  it 
is  printed  in  a  book.  And  let  it  be  said  once  and  for  all,  this 
book  is  specially  written  for  those  who  are  outside  the  Church 
of  Christ;  the  others,  those  who  have  remained  within,  united 
to  the  heirs  of  the  Apostles,  do  not  need  my  words. 

The  author  excuses  himself  for  having  written  a  book  with 
so  many,  with  too  many  pages,  on  only  one  theme.  Now  that 
most  books — even  his  own  books — are  only  bundles  of  pages 
taken  out  of  journals,  or  short-winded  little  stories,  or  short 
notes  taken  from  note-books,  and  generally  do  not  go  beyond 
two  or  three  hundred  pages,  to  have  written  more  than  four 
hundred  pages  on  one  theme  will  seem  a  tremendous  presump¬ 
tion.  The  book  certainly  will  seem  long  to  modern  readers 
used  to  light  wafers  rather  than  to  substantial  home-made 
loaves.  But  books,  like  days,  are  long  or  short,  according  to 
what  you  put  into  them.  And  the  author  is  not  so  cured  of 
his  pride  as  to  think  that  this  book  will  remain  unread  on 
account  of  its  length,  and  he  flatters  himself  that  it  may  be 
read  with  less  tedium  than  other  books  that  are  shorter.  So 
difficult  it  is  to  cure  oneself  of  conceit — even  for  those  whose 
wish  it  is  to  cure  others. 


6 

Some  years  ago  the  author  of  this  book  wrote  another  to  de¬ 
scribe  the  melancholy  life  of  a  man  who  wished  for  a  moment 
to  become  God.  Now  in  the  maturity  of  his  years  and  of  his 


i8  INTRODUCTION 

consciousness  he  has  tried  to  write  the  life  of  a  God  who  made 
Himself  man. 

This  same  writer  in  those  days  let  his  mad  and  voluble  hu¬ 
mor  run  wild  along  all  the  roads  of  paradox,  holding  that  a  con¬ 
sequence  of  the  negation  of  everything  transcendental  was  the 
need  to  despoil  oneself  of  any  bigotry,  even  profane  and 
worldly,  to  arrive  at  integral  and  perfect  atheism;  and  he  was 
logical  as  the  “black  cherubim”  of  Dante,  because  there  is  only 
one  choice  allowed  man,  the  choice  between  God  and  nothing¬ 
ness.  When  man  turns  from  God  there  is  no  valid  reason  to 
uphold  the  idols  of  the  tribe  or  any  other  of  the  old  fetiches  of 
reason  or  of  passion.  In  those  proud  and  feverish  days  he 
who  writes  affronted  Christ  as  few  men  before  him  have  ever 
done.  And  yet  scarcely  six  years  afterwards  (but  six  years  of 
great  travail  and  devastation  without  and  within  his  heart), 
after  long  months  of  agitated  meditations,  he  suddenly  inter¬ 
rupted  another  work  begun  many  years  ago,  and  almost  as  if 
urged  and  forced  by  a  power  stronger  than  himself,  he  began 
to  v/rite  this  book  about  Christ  which  seems  to  him  insufficient 
expiation  for  his  guilt.  It  has  happened  often  to  Christ  that  He 
has  been  more  tenaciously  loved  by  the  very  men  who  hated 
Him  at  first.  Hate  is  sometimes  only  imperfect  and  uncon¬ 
scious  love:  and  in  any  case  it  is  a  better  foundation  for  love 
than  indifference. 

How  the  writer  came  to  discover  Christ  again,  by  himself, 
treading  many  roads,  which  all  brought  him  to  the  foot  of  the 
Mount  of  the  Gospel,  would  be  too  long  and  too  hard  a  story 
to  tell.  But  there  is  a  significance  not  perhaps  wholly  personal 
and  private  in  the  example  of  a  man  who  always  from  his  child¬ 
hood  felt  a  repulsion  for  all  recognized  forms  of  religious  faith, 
and  for  all  churches,  and  for  all  forms  of  spiritual  vassalage 
and  who  passed,  with  disappointments  as  deep  as  the  enthusi¬ 
asms  had  been  vivid,  through  many  experiences,  the  most 
varied  and  the  most  unhackneyed  which  he  could  find,  who 
had  consumed  in  himself  the  ambitions  of  an  epoch  unstable 
and  restless  as  few  have  been,  and  who  after  so  many  wander¬ 
ings,  ravings  and  dreamings,  drew  near  to  Christ. 

He  did  not  turn  back  to  Christ  out  of  weariness,  because  his 


INTRODUCTION 


19 


return  to  Christ  made  life  become  more  difficult  and  responsi¬ 
bilities  heavier  to  bear;  not  through  the  fears  of  old  age,  for 
he  can  still  call  himself  a  young  man;  and  not  through  desire 
for  worldly  fame,  because  as  things  go  nowadays  he  would  re¬ 
ceive  more  commendation  if  he  continued  in  his  old  ideas. 
But  this  man,  turning  back  to  Christ,  saw  that  Christ  is  be¬ 
trayed,  and,  worse  than  any  affront  to  Him,  that  He  is  being 
forgotten.  And  he  felt  the  impulse  to  bring  Him  to  mind  and 
to  defend  Him. 

For  not  only  His  enemies  have  left  Him,  and  despoiled  Him; 
the  very  ones  who  were  His  disciples  when  He  was  alive  only 
half  understood  Him,  and  deserted  Him  at  the  end;  and  many 
of  those  who  were  born  in  His  church  disobey  His  commands, 
care  more  for  His  painted  pictures  than  for  His  living  ex¬ 
ample,  and  when  they  have  worn  out  their  lips  and  knees  in 
materialistic  piety,  think  they  are  quits  with  Him,  and  that 
they  have  done  what  He  asked  of  man, — what  He  still  is  ask¬ 
ing,  what  He  has  been  asking  desperately  and  always  in  vain 
for  nineteen  hundred  years. 

A  story  of  Christ  written  to-day  is  an  answer,  a  necessary 
reply,  an  inevitable  conclusion.  The  balance  of  modern  public 
opinion  is  against  Christ.  A  book  about  Christ’s  life  is  there¬ 
fore  a  weight  thrown  into  the  scales,  in  order  that  from  the 
eternal  war  between  love  and  hate  there  may  result  at  least 
the  equilibrium  of  justice.  And  if  the  author  is  called  a  re¬ 
actionary,  that  is  nothing  to  him.  The  man  who  is  thought  to 
be  behind  the  times  often  is  a  man  born  too  soon.  The  setting 
sun  is  the  same  which  at  that  very  moment  colors  the  early 
morning  of  a  distant  country.  Christianity  is  not  a  piece  of 
antiquity  now  assimilated,  in  as  far  as  it  had  anything  good, 
by  the  wonderful  and  not-to-be-improved  modern  conscious¬ 
ness;  but  it  is  for  very  many  something  so  new  that  it  has  not 
even  yet  begun.  The  world  to-day  seeks  for  peace  rather  than 
for  liberty,  and  the  only  certain  peace  is  found  under  the  yoke 
of  Christ. 

They  say  that  Christ  is  the  prophet  of  the  weak,  and  on  the 
contrary  He  came  to  give  strength  to  the  languishing,  and  to 
raise  up  those  trodden  under  foot  to  be  higher  than  kings. 


20 


INTRODUCTION 


They  say  that  His  is  the  religion  of  the  sick  and  of  the  dying, 
and  yet  He  heals  the  sick  and  brings  the  sleeping  to  life.  They 
say  that  He  is  against  life,  and  yet  He  conquers  death;  that  He 
is  the  God  of  sadness,  and  yet  He  exhorts  His  followers  to  be 
joyful  and  promises  an  everlasting  banquet  of  joy  to  His  friends. 
They  say  that  He  introduced  sadness  and  mortification  into  the 
world,  and  on  the  contrary  when  He  was  alive  He  ate  and 
drank,  and  let  His  feet  and  hair  be  perfumed,  and  detested 
hypocritical  fasts,  and  the  penitential  mummeries  of  vanity. 
Many  have  left  Him  because  they  never  knew  Him.  This  book 
is  especially  for  such  readers. 

This  book  is  written,  if  you  will  pardon  the  mention,  by  a 
Florentine,  a  son  of  the  only  nation  which  ever  chose  Christ 
for  its  King.  Savonarola  first  had  the  idea  in  1495,  but  could 
not  carry  it  through.  In  spite  of  a  threatening  siege,  it  was 
taken  up  in  1527  and  approved  by  a  great  majority.  Over  the 
door  of  the  Palazzo  Vecchio,  between  Michael  Angelo’s  David 
and  Bandinelli’s  Hercules,  a  marble  tablet  was  built  into  the 
wall,  with  these  words: 

Jesus  Christus  Rex  Florentini 

POPULI  P.  DECRETO  ELECTUS. 

Although  changed  by  Cosimo,  this  inscription  is  still  there; 
the  decree  was  never  formally  abrogated  and  denied,  and  even 
to-day  after  four  hundred  years  of  usurpations,  the  WTiter  of 
this  book  is  proud  to  call  himself  a  subject  and  soldier  of  Christ 
the  King. 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


JESUS  was  born  in  a  stable,  a  real  stable,  not  the  bright,  airy 
portico  which  Christian  painters  have  created  for  the 
Son  of  David,  as  if  ashamed  that  their  God  should  have  lain 
down  in  poverty  and  dirt.  And  not  the  modern  Christmas- 
eve  ^‘Holy  Stable’’  either,  made  of  plaster  of  Paris,  with  little 
candy-like  statuettes,  the  Holy  Stable,  clean  and  prettily 
painted,  with  a  neat,  tidy  manger,  an  ecstatic  Ass,  a  contrite 
Ox,  and  Angels  fluttering  their  wreaths  on  the  roof — this  is  not 
the  stable  where  Jesus  was  born. 

A  real  stable  is  the  house,  the  prison  of  the  animals  who 
work  for  man.  The  poor,  old  stable  of  Christ’s  old,  poor  coun¬ 
try  is  only  four  rough  walls,  a  dirty  pavement,  a  roof  of  beams 
and  slate.  It  is  dark,  reeking.  The  only  clean  thing  in  it  is  the 
manger  where  the  owner  piles  the  hay  and  fodder. 

Fresh  in  the  clear  morning,  waving  in  the  wind,  sunny,  lush, 
sweet-scented,  the  spring  meadow  was  mown.  The  green  grass, 
the  long,  slim  blades  were  cut  down  by  the  scythe  ;  and  with  the 
grass  the  beautiful  flowers  in  full  bloom — white,  red,  yellow, 
blue.  They  withered  and  dried  and  took  on  the  one  dull  color 
of  hay.  Oxen  dragged  back  to  the  barn  the  dead  plunder  of 
May  and  June.  And  now  that  grass  has  become  dry  hay  and 
those  flowers,  still  smelling  sweet,  are  there  in  the  Manger  to 
feed  the  slaves  of  man.  The  animals  take  it  slowly  with  their 
great  black  lips,  and  later  the  flowering  fields,  changed  into 
moist  dung,  return  to  light  on  the  litter  which  serves  as 
bedding. 

This  is  the  real  stable  where  Jesus  was  born.  The  filthiest 

place  in  the  world  was  the  first  room  of  the  only  Pure  Man 

ever  born  of  woman.  The  Son  of  Man,  who  was  to  be  devoured 

by  wild  beasts  calling  themselves  men,  had  as  His  first  cradle 

21 


22 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


the  manger  where  the  animals  chewed  the  cud  of  the  mirac¬ 
ulous  flowers  of  Spring. 

It  was  not  by  chance  that  Christ  was  born  in  a  stable.  What 
is  the  world  but  an  immense  stable  where  men  produce  filth 
and  wallow  in  it?  Do  they  not  daily  change  the  most  beauti¬ 
ful,  the  purest,  the  most  divine  things  into  excrements?  Then, 
stretching  themselves  at  full  length  on  the  piles  of  manure,  they 
say  they  are  ^^enjoying  life.’’  Upon  this  earthly  pig-sty,  where 
no  decorations  or  perfumes  can  hide  the  odor  of  filth,  Jesus 
appeared  one  night,  born  of  a  stainless  Virgin  armed  only 
with  innocence. 

THE  ox  AND  THE  ASS 

First  to  worship  Jesus  were  animals,  not  men.  Among  men 
He  sought  out  the  simple-hearted:  among  the  simple-hearted 
He  sought  out  children.  Simpler  than  children,  and  milder, 
the  beasts  of  burden  welcomed  Him. 

Though  humble,  though  servants  of  beings  'weaker  and 
fiercer  than  they,  the  ass  and  the  ox  had  seen  multitudes 
kneeling  before  them.  Christ’s  own  people,  the  people  of  Je¬ 
hovah,  the  chosen  people  whom  Jehovah  had  freed  from 
Egyptian  slavery,  when  their  leader  left  them  alone  in  the 
desert  to  go  up  and  talk  with  the  Eternal,  did  they  not  force 
Aaron  to  make  them  a  Golden  Calf  to  worship?  In  Greece  the 
ass  was  sacred  to  Ares,  to  Dionysius,  to  Hyperborean  Apollo. 
Balaam’s  ass,  wiser  than  the  prophet,  saved  him  by  speaking. 
Oxus,  King  of  Persia,  put  an  ass  in  the  temple  of  Ptha,  and 
had  it  worshiped.  And  Augustus,  Christ’s  temporal  sovereign, 
had  set  up  in  the  temple  the  brazen  statue  of  an  ass,  to  com¬ 
memorate  the  good  omen  of  his  meeting  on  the  eve  of  Actium 
an  ass  named  ^The  Victorious.” 

Up  to  that  time  the  Kings  of  the  earth  and  the  populace 
craving  material  things  had  bowed  before  oxen  and  asses. 
But  Jesus  did  not  come  into  the  world  to  reign  over  the  earth, 
nor  to  love  material  things.  He  was  to  bring  to  an  end  the 
bowing  down  before  beasts,  the  weakness  of  Aaron,  the 
superstition  of  Augustus.  The  beasts  of  Jerusalem  will  murder 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


23 


Him,  but  in  the  meantime  the  beasts  of  Bethlehem  warm  Him 
with  their  breath.  In  later  years,  when  Jesus  went  up  to  the 
city  of  death  for  the  Feast  of  the  Passover,  He  was  mounted 
on  an  ass.  But  He  was  a  greater  prophet  than  Balaam,  coming 
not  to  save  the  Jews  alone  but  all  men:  and  He  did  not  turn 
back  from  His  path,  no,  not  though  all  the  mules  of  Jerusalem 
brayed  against  him. 


THE  SHEPHERDS 

.i? 

After  the  animals  came  those  who  care  for  animals.  Even 
if  the  Angel  had  not  announced  the  great  birth,  they  would 
have  gone  to  the  stable  to  see  the  son  of  the  stranger  woman. 
Shepherds  live  almost  always  alone  and  far  away.  They  know 
nothing  of  the  distant  world,  nor  of  the  feast-days  of  the  earth. 
They  are  moved  by  whatever  happens  near  to  them,  even  if  it 
is  but  a  little  thing. 

But  as  they  were  watching  their  flocks  in  the  long  winter 
night,  they  were  shaken  by  the  light  and  by  the  words  of  the 
Angel.  ^Tear  not,  for  behold  I  bring  you  good  tidings  of  great 
joy.  .  .  .  Glory  to  God  in  the  highest  and  on  earth  peace  to 
men  of  good  will.”  In  the  dim  light  of  the  stable  they 
saw  a  beautiful  young  woman  gazing  silently  at  her  son.  And 
as  they  saw  the  baby  with  His  eyes  just  open.  His  delicate 
rosy  flesh.  His  mouth  which  had  not  yet  eaten,  their  hearts 
softened  The  birth  of  a  new  man,  a  soul  just  become  incar¬ 
nate  taking  upon  itself  to  suffer  with  other  souls,  is  always 
a  miracle  so  deep  as  to  move  to  pity  even  the  simple-hearted 
who  do  not  understand  it.  For  the  shepherds  forewarned,  this 
new-born  child  was  not  just  a  baby,  but  He  for  whom  their 
suffering  race  had  been  waiting,  for  a  thousand  years. 

The  shepherds  offered  what  little  they  had,  that  little  which 
is  so  great  when  offered  with  love.  They  carried  the  white 
offerings  of  their  craft,  milk,  cheese,  wool,  the  lamb.  Even  to¬ 
day  in  our  mountains,  where  one  finds  the  last  dying  traces  of 
hospitality  and  fraternal  feeling,  as  soon  as  a  wife  is  delivered 
of  a  child,  the  sisters,  wives  and  daughters  of  the  shepherds 
come  hurrying  to  her;  and  not  one  of  them  empty-handed. 


24 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


One  has  three  or  four  eggs  still  warm  from  the  nest,  another  a 
cup  of  freshly  drawn  milk,  another  a  little  cheese,  another  a 
pullet  to  make  broth  for  the  new  mother.  A  new  being  has 
begun  his  suffering:  the  neighbors  hasten  to  carry  their  offer¬ 
ings  almost  as  though  to  console  the  mother. 

Themselves  poor  the  old-time  shepherds  did  not  look  down 
on  the  poor.  Simple  as  children  they  loved  children.  They 
came  of  a  race  born  of  the  Shepherd  of  Ur,  saved  by  the  Shep¬ 
herd  of  Madian.  Their  first  kings  had  been  shepherds — Saul 
and  David — shepherds  of  herds  before  being  shepherds  of 
tribes.  But  these  shepherds  of  Bethlehem,  “unknown  to  the 
hard  world,”  were  not  proud.  A  poor  man  was  born  among 
them  and  they  looked  on  Him  with  affection  and  lovingly 
brought  Him  their  poor  riches.  They  knew  that  this  boy, 
born  of  poor  people  in  poverty,  born  of  common  people  in  the 
midst  of  common  people,  was  to  be  the  redeemer  of  the  hum¬ 
ble,  of  those  men  of  good  will,  on  whom  the  Angel  had  called 
down  peace. 

THE  WISE  MEN 

Some  days  after  this,  three  wise  men  came  from  Chaldea 
and  knelt  before  Jesus.  They  came  perhaps  from  Ecbatana, 
perhaps  from  the  shores  of  the  Caspian  Sea.  Mounted  on  their 
camels  with  their  full-stuffed  saddle-bags,  they  had  forded  the 
Tigris  and  the  Euphrates,  crossed  the  great  desert  of  the  no¬ 
mad  tribes,  followed  along  the  Dead  Sea.  They  were  guided 
to  Judea  by  a  new  star  like  the  comet  which  appears  every 
so  often  in  the  sky  to  announce  the  birth  of  a  prophet 
or  the  death  of  a  Caesar.  They  had  come  to  adore  a  King,  and 
they  found  a  nursing  baby,  poorly  swaddled,  hidden  within  a 
stable.  Almost  a  thousand  years  before  this,  a  Queen  of  the 
East  had  come  on  a  pilgrimage  to  Judea,  and  she,  too,  had  car¬ 
ried  gifts,  gold,  fragrant  perfumes  and  precious  stones;  but 
she  had  found  on  the  throne  the  greatest  king  who  had  ever 
reigned  in  Jerusalem  and  from  him  had  learned  what  no  one 
else  had  been  able  to  teach  her. 

The  wise  men  found  no  king.  They  found  a  new-born 
baby,  a  tiny  boy,  who  could  neither  ask  nor  answer  questions. 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


25 


a  boy  who  in  His  maturity  was  to  disdain  material  treasures, 
and  the  learning  which  is  based  on  material  things. 

They  were  not  kings,  these  wise  men,  but  in  Media  and 
Persia  they  were  the  masters  of  kings.  The  kings  ruled  over 
the  people,  but  the  wise  men  directed  the  kings.  They  alone 
could  communicate  with  Alma  Mazda,  the  good  God.  They 
alone  knew  the  future,  and  Destiny.  They  killed  with  their 
own  hands  the  enemies  of  men  and  of  the  harvests,  snakes, 
harmful  insects,  birds  of  prey.  They  purified  souls,  they  puri¬ 
fied  the  fields.  Except  from  their  hands  God  accepted  no  sacri¬ 
fices.  No  king  began  a  war  without  consulting  them.  Theirs 
were  the  secrets  of  heaven  and  earth.  In  the  name  of  science 
and  religion  they  held  first  rank  in  the  nation.  In  the  midst  of 
a  people  sunk  in  material  things  they  represented  the  Spirit. 
It  was  fitting  that  they  should  come  to  kneel  before  Jesus. 
After  the  animals  which  are  Nature,  after  the  Shepherds  which 
are  the  common  people,  this  third  power  which  is  knowledge 
knelt  at  the  manger  in  Bethlehem.  The  old  priestly  caste  of 
the  Orient  made  its  act  of  submission  before  the  new  Lord,  who 
was  to  send  His  Gospel  to  the  west.  The  learned  men  knelt 
before  Him  who  was  to  set  above  the  learning  of  words  and 
numbers  the  new  wisdom  of  love. 

Symbolizing  the  old  theology  bowing  before  the  final  revela¬ 
tion,  the  wise  men  at  Bethlehem  knelt  before  Innocence: 
Wealth  prostrated  itself  at  the  feet  of  Poverty. 

They  offered  gold  to  Jesus:  gold  which  He  was  to  tread  un¬ 
der  foot.  They  offered  it  not  because  Mary  in  her  poverty 
might  need  it  for  the  journey,  but  in  anticipation  of  the  com¬ 
mand,  ‘^Sell  all  that  thou  hast  and  give  it  to  the  poor.”  They 
offered  Him  frankincense,  not  to  drown  the  stench  of  the  stable, 
but  as  a  token  that  their  own  ritual  was  ended;  that  their 
altars  would  need  smoke  and  perfume  no  longer.  They  offered 
Him  myrrh  knowing  that  this  boy  would  die  young,  and  His 
mother,  smiling  now,  would  need  spices  to  embalm  the  dead 
body. 

Kneeling  in  their  pontifical  robes  upon  the  bedding  of  straw, 
they,  the  mighty,  the  learned,  the  soothsayers,  offered  them¬ 
selves  as  pledges  of  the  obedience  of  the  world. 


26 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


Jesus  now  had  received  all  His  rightful  investitures.  Th 
wise  men  had  scarcely  gone  when  persecutions  were  begun  b 
those  who  were  to  hate  Him  to  the  day  of  His  death. 

OCTAVIUS  AUGUSTUS 

When  Christ  appeared  upon  the  earth,  criminals  ruled  th 
world  unopposed.  He  was  born  subject  to  two  sovereigns,  th 
stronger  far  away  at  Rome,  the  weaker  and  wickeder  close  a 
hand  in  Judea. 

One  lucky  adventurer  after  wholesale  slaughter  had  seize( 
the  empire,  another  had  murdered  his  way  to  the  throne  o 
David  and  Solomon.  Each  rose  to  high  position  through  trick 
ery,  through  civil  wars,  betrayals,  cruelty,  massacres.  The] 
were  born  to  understand  one  another,  were,  as  a  matter  of  fad 
friends  and  accomplices,  as  far  as  was  possible  between  a  sub 
ordinate  rascal  and  his  rascal  chief. 

Son  of  the  usurer  of  Velletri,  Augustus  showed  himself  cow 
ardly  in  war  and  vindictive  in  victory,  false  to  his  friends,  crue 
in  reprisals.  To  a  condemned  man  who  begged  only  fo 
burial  he  answered,  “That  is  the  business  of  the  vultures.' 
To  the  Perugians  begging  for  mercy  during  the  massacre  h( 
cried,  “Moriendum  esse!’’  On  a  mere  suspicion  he  wanted  t( 
tear  out  the  eyes  of  the  Praetor  Quintus  Gallius  before  order 
ing  his  throat  cut.  Possessed  of  the  empire,  with  his  enemie 
crushed  and  scattered,  with  the  power  all  in  his  own  hands,  h( 
put  on  a  mask  of  mildness  and  of  his  youthful  vices  kept  onlj 
his  lust.  It  was  told  of  him,  that  in  his  youth,  he  had  sold  hU 
body  twice,  first  to  Caesar,  and  again  in  Spain  to  Hirtius  foi 
300,000  sestertia.  Now  he  amused  himself  with  the  wives  0 
his  friends,  with  almost  public  adulteries,  and  with  posing  as 
the  restorer  of  morality. 

This  filthy,  sickly  man  was  sovereign  of  the  western  worlc 
when  Jesus  was  born,  nor  did  he  ever  know  that  One  had  beer 
born  who  would  bring  the  dissolution  of  all  that  he  had  founded 
The  facile  philosophy  of  the  plump  little  plagiarist  Horace  was 
enough  for  him,  “To-day  let  us  enjoy  wine  and  love:  hopeless 
death  awaits  us:  there  is  not  a  day  to  be  lost!”  In  vain  Virgil 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


27 


the  man  of  the  countryside,  friend  of  woods,  of  quiet  flocks 
and  golden  bees,  he  who  had  gone  down  with  ^neas  to 
see  the  sufferers  in  Avernus  and  poured  his  restless  melancholy 
into  the  music  of  poetry;  in  vain  Virgil,  the  loving  pious  Virgil, 
had  foretold  a  new  era,  a  new  order  and  a  new  race,  a  kingdom 
of  heaven  less  spiritual,  less  brilliant  than  that  which  Jesus  was 
to  announce,  but  infinitely  nobler  and  purer  than  the  kingdom 
of  Hell  which  was  then  making  ready.  In  vain,  because  Au¬ 
gustus  saw  in  these  words  only  a  pastoral  fancy  and  perhaps 
believed  that  he,  the  corrupt  master  of  the  corrupt,  was  the 
proclaimed  Saviour  and  restorer  of  the  reign  of  Saturn. 

But  his  vassal  of  Judea,  his  great  Oriental  client,  may  have 
had  a  presentiment  of  the  birth  of  Jesus,  of  the  true  King, 
who  was  coming  to  supplant  the  king  of  eviL 

HEROD  THE  GREAT 

Herod  was  a  monster,  one  of  the  most  perfidious  monsters 
of  the  many  which  have  sprung  from  the  burning  deserts  of 
the  East.  He  was  not  a  Jew,  nor  a  Greek,  nor  a  Roman.  He 
was  an  Idumean,  a  barbarian  who  prostrated  himself  before 
Rome,  and  aped  the  Greeks  the  better  to  secure  his  dominion 
over  the  Jews.  Son  of  a  traitor,  he  had  usurped  the  kingdom 
of  his  sovereign  from  the  last  unfortunate  Hasmonaeans.  To 
legalize  his  treachery  he  married  their  niece,  Mariamne.  After¬ 
wards,  on  a  baseless  suspicion,  he  had  her  killed.  It  was  not  his 
first  crime.  He  had  had  his  brother-in-law,  Aristobulus, 
treacherously  drowned.  He  had  condemned  his  other  brothers- 
in-law,  Joseph  and  Hyrcanus  the  Second  (last  of  the  conquered 
dynasty).  Not  content  with  having  killed  Mariamne,  he  put 
her  mother,  Alexandra,  to  death  as  well,  and  finally,  the  sons 
of  Baba,  merely  because  they  were  distant  relatives  of  the 
Hasmonaeans.  In  the  meantime  he  amused  himself  with  burn¬ 
ing  alive  Juda  of  Sarafaus  and  Matthew  of  Margoloth  with 
other  heads  of  the  Pharisees.  Later,  afraid  that  the  sons  he 
had  had  by  Mariamne  would  wish  to  avenge  their  mother,  he 
had  them  strangled.  Himself  at  the  point  of  death  he  gave  the 
order  to  kill  a  third  son,  Archelaus.  Voluptuous,  suspicious, 


•n  '■ 


1 


28 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


impious,  greedy  of  gold  and  of  glory,  he  never  knew  peace  a 
home,  in  Judea  or  in  his  own  heart.  In  order  that  he  migh 
bury  the  recollection  of  his  assassinations  he  gave  the  Roma: 
people  a  present  of  three  hundred  talents  to  spend  in  festivals 
He  humiliated  himself  before  Augustus  to  make  him  the  ac 
complice  of  his  infamies  and,  dying,  left  him  ten  thousand 
drachmas  and,  in  addition,  a  ship  of  gold  and  one  of  silver  fo 
Livia. 

This  half-civilized  Arab  attempted  to  conciliate  the  Greek 
and  the  Jews.  He  succeeded  in  bribing  the  degenerate  pos 
terity  of  Socrates  so  that  in  Athens  they  put  up  a  statue  t 
him,  but  the  Jews  hated  him  to  the  day  of  his  death.  It  dii 
him  no  good,  in  their  eyes,  to  build  up  Samaria  and  restore  th 
temple  of  Jerusalem.  He  was  always,  for  them,  the  heathei 
and  the  usurper. 

Apprehensive  like  all  ageing  evil-doers,  and  like  all  new 
made  princes,  he  shivered  at  every  fluttering  leaf,  every  shift 
ing  shadow.  Superstitious  like  all  Orientals,  credulous  o 
presages  and  soothsayers,  he  readily  believed  the  three  wis 
men  when  they  said,  that  led  by  a  star,  they  had  come  fror 
the  interior  of  Chaldea  towards  the  country  which  he  ha^ 
fraudulently  stolen.  Any  pretender  to  the  throne,  even  a  far 
tastic  one,  could  make  him  tremble,  and  when  he  knew  fror 
the  wise  men  that  a  King  of  Judea  was  born,  his  uneasy,  bar 
barian’s  heart  gave  a  great  leap  of  fear.  Seeing  that  the  as 
trologers  did  not  come  back  to  tell  him  the  place  where  th 
new  nephew  of  David  had  appeared,  he  ordered  that  all  th 
boy  babies  of  Bethlehem  should  be  killed. 

THE  INNOCENTS 

Nobody  ever  knew  how  many  children  were  sacrificed  to  thi 
terror  of  Herod.  It  was  not  the  first  time  in  Judea  that  evei 
nursing  children  had  been  put  to  the  sword.  This  same  He 
brew  people  had  punished  in  the  olden  times  cities  of  thei 
enemies  by  the  massacre  of  the  old  men,  the  wives,  the  younj 
men  and  the  boys.  They  saved  only  the  virgins  to  make  then 
slaves  and  concubines.  God  Himself,  the  jealous  Jehovah,  hai 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


29 


often  given  the  order  for  the  slaughter,  and  now  the  Idumean 
applied  to  the  people  who  had  accepted  him,  the  Mosaic  law 
of  an  eye  for  an  eye  and  a  tooth  for  a  tooth. 

We  do  not  know  how  many  of  the  Innocents  there  were,  but 
if  we  can  believe  Macrobius  we  know  that  among  them  was  a 
little  son  of  Herod  who  was  at  nurse  in  Bethlehem.  For  the 
old  King,  wife-killer  and  son-killer,  who  knows  but  that  this 
was  a  form  of  retribution  :  who  knows  but  that  he  suffered  when 
they  brought  him  news  of  the  mistake?  A  short  time  after  this 
he  also  was  to  die,  suffering  from  loathsome  disease.  His 
body  began  to  putrefy  while  still  alive.  Worms  consumed  his 
organs.  Burnt  up  with  fevers,  gasping,  he  could  scarcely  draw 
his  tainted  breath.  Disgusting  to  himself,  he  tried  to  kill  him¬ 
self  with  a  knife  at  table,  and  finally  died,  after  having  given 
Salome  orders  to  have  many  young  prisoners  killed. 

The  massacre  of  the  Innocents  was  the  last  act  of  the  reek¬ 
ing,  bloody  old  man.  There  is  a  prophetic  meaning  in  this 
immolation  of  the  Innocents  around  the  cradle  of  an  Innocent, 
this  holocaust  of  blood  for  a  new-born  child,  a  child  destined 
to  offer  His  blood  for  the  pardon  of  the  guilty,  this  human 
sacrifice  for  One,  who  in  His  turn  was  to  be  sacrificed.  After 
His  death  thousands  and  thousands  were  to  die  for  the  sole 
crime  of  having  believed  in  His  resurrection.  He  was  born  to 
die  for  others  and  as  if  to  expiate  His  birth,  behold,  here  are 
thousands  born  who  die  for  Him. 

There  is  a  tremendous  mystery  in  this  blood-offering  of  the 
pure,  in  the  death  of  so  many  of  His  contemporaries.  They 
belonged  to  the  generation  which  was  to  betray  and  crucify 
Him.  But  those  who  were  killed  by  the  soldiers  of  Herod  that 
day  did  not  see  Him,  did  not  grow  up  to  see  their  Lord  killed. 
They  saved  Him  with  their  death,  and  saved  themselves  for¬ 
ever.  They  were  innocent  and  they  remained  innocent  for  all 
eternity.  Their  fathers  and  their  surviving  brothers  avenged 
them  later,  but  they  will  be  pardoned  because  ‘‘they  know  not 
what  they  do  ! 


30 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


THE  FLIGHT  INTO  EGYPT 

A  Christian  poeL  an  Italian^  sang  this  lullaby  to  the  new¬ 
born  Jesusi 

Sleep,  baby,  do  not  weep, 

Sleep,  heavenly  babe. 

Over  your  head,  the  tempests  shall  not  dare  to  rage! 

But  the  son  of  Mary  did  not  make  Himself  man  in  order  to 
sleep,  and  the  tempests  raged,  but  He  was  not  afraid. 

Better  than  Siddharta,  He  deserves  the  name  of  the  Awak¬ 
ened  one.  How  can  He  sleep  in  the  stable,  where  the  donkey 
brays,  precursor  of  all  donkeys  who  will  bray  against  Him: 
where  the  ox  lows,  waiting  until  the  other  oxen  speak  at  His 
presence;  where  the  shepherds  question  Him;  where  the  wise 
men  give  Him  their  blessing?  How  can  He  sleep  when  the 
shuffling  steps  of  Herod’s  assassins  draw  near?  How  can  He 
ever  sleep  up  to  that  last  night  when  He  will  agonize  under  the 
olive  trees,  amid  the  sleeping  bodies  of  the  Eleven? 

And  Mary  cannot  sleep.  In  the  evening  as  soon  as  the 
houses  of  Bethlehem  disappear  in  the  darkness  and  the  first 
lamps  are  lighted,  the  mother  steals  away  like  a  fugitive.  She 
is  snatching  a  life  away  from  the  King,  she  is  saving  a  hope  for 
the  people  as  she  presses  upon  her  breast  her  man-child,  her 
hope,  her  sorrow. 

She  goes  towards  the  west,  she  crosses  the  old  land  of  Canaan 
and  comes  by  easy  stages — the  days  are  short — to  the  Nile,  to 
that  country  of  Mizraim  which  had  cost  so  many  tears  to  her 
ancestors  fourteen  centuries  before. 

Jesus,  who  carried  on  the  work  of  Moses  and  at  the  same 
time  demolished  the  work  of  Moses,  goes  back  over  the  route 
taken  by  the  first  redeemer.  When  the  Jews  were  under  the 
whip  of  the  Egyptian  slaves,  oppressed,  mistreated,  ill-used, 
the  Shepherd  of  Median  made  himself  the  Shepherd  of  Israel, 
and  led  his  hard-headed  people  across  the  desert  till  they  were 
in  sight  of  the  Jordan  and  of  the  miraculous  vineyards.  The 
people  of  Jesus  left  Chaldea  with  Abraham  and  came  with 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


31 


Joseph  into  Egypt.  Moses  led  them  from  Egypt  toward 
Canaan.  Now  the  greatest  of  the  liberators,  in  danger  of  his 
life,  went  back  to  the  banks  of  that  river  where  the  first 
Saviour  had  been  saved  from  the  water  and  had  saved  his 
brothers. 

Egypt,  the  rich  spawning-bed  of  all  the  infamies  and  all  the 
magnificences  of  the  first  epoch,  that  African  India,  where  the 
waves  of  history  broke  and  died,  where  but  a  few  years  be¬ 
fore,  Pompey  and  Antony  had  finished  the  dream  of  Empire 
and  of  life,  this  prodigious  country,  born  of  water,  burned  by 
the  sun,  covered  with  the  blood  of  many  peoples,  inhabited  by 
many  animal-gods,  this  country,  paradoxical  and  supernatural, 
was  by  contrast  the  predestined  asylum  for  the  fugitive. 

The  wealth  of  Egypt  was  in  mud,  in  the  rich  snake-breeding 
mud  which  the  Nile  rolled  out  each  year  upon  the  desert. 
Death  was  the  obsession  of  Egypt.  The  soft,  prosperous  peo¬ 
ple  of  Egypt  would  not  accept  death,  denied  death,  thought 
they  could  conquer  death  with  graven  images,  with  embalm¬ 
ings,  with  sculptured  representation  of  flesh-and-blood  bodies. 
The  rich,  portly  Egyptian,  son  of  mud,  adorer  of  the  sacred 
bull,  and  the  dog-headed  god,  could  not  resign  himself  to  dying. 
He  manufactured  for  his  second  life  immense  necropolises  full 
of  bandaged  and  perfumed  mummies,  of  images  of  wood  and 
marble,  and  raised  up  pyramids  over  his  corpses,  as  if  stone 
and  mortar  might  save  them  from  decay. 

When  Jesus  could  speak.  He  was  to  pronounce  the  verdict 
against  Egypt:  the  Egypt  which  is  not  only  on  the  banks  of  the 
Nile,  the  Egypt  which  has  not  yet  disappeared  from  the  face  of 
the  earth  along  with  its  kings,  its  sparrow-hawks  and  its  ser¬ 
pents.  Christ  was  to  give  the  final  and  eternal  ansv/er  to  the 
terror  of  the  Egyptians.  He  was  to  condemn  the  wealth  which 
comes  from  mud  and  returns  to  mud,  and  all  the  fetiches  of  the 
pot-bellied  river-dwellers  of  the  Nile,  and  He  was  to  conquer 
death  without  sculptured  tombs,  without  mortuary  kingdoms, 
without  statues  of  granite  and  basalt.  His  victory  over  death 
is  won  by  teaching  that  sin  is  greedier  than  worms  and  that 
spiritual  purity  is  the  only  aromatic  which  preserves  from 
decay. 


32 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


The  worshipers  of  mud  and  of  animals,  the  servants  of 
riches  and  of  the  Beast,  could  not  save  themselves.  Their 
tombs,  high  as  mountains  though  they  be,  decked  out  like 
queens’  palaces,  white  and  fair  to  see  as  those  of  the  Pharisees, 
guard  only  ashes,  dust  returning  again  to  dust,  even  as  the 
dead  bodies  of  animals.  Death  cannot  be  conquered  by  copy¬ 
ing  life  in  wood  and  stone.  Stone  crumbles  away  and  turns 
to  dust,  wood  rots  and  turns  to  dust,  and  both  of  them  are 
mud — eternal  mud. 

THE  LOST  FOUND 

But  the  exile  in  Egypt  was  short.  Jesus  was  brought  back, 
held  in  His  mother’s  arms,  rocked  throughout  the  long  journey 
by  the  patient  step  of  the  ass,  to  His  father’s  house  in  Naz¬ 
areth,  humble  house  and  shop  where  the  hammer  pounded  and 
the  rasp  scraped  until  the  setting  of  the  sun. 

The  canonical  gospels  say  nothing  of  these  years:  the  Apo¬ 
crypha  give  many  details  but  unworthy  of  belief.  Luke,  the 
wise  doctor,  is  content  to  set  down  that  the  boy  grew  and  was 
strong;  that  is,  that  he  was  not  sickly  and  overworked.  He 
was  a  boy  developed  as  he  should  be:  healthy,  a  bearer  of 
health,  as  was  fitting  in  one  who  was  to  restore  health  to  others 
by  the  mere  touch  of  His  hand. 

Every  year,  says  Luke,  the  parents  of  Jesus  went  to  Jerusa¬ 
lem  for  the  feast  of  unleavened  bread  in  memory  of  the  escape 
from  Egypt.  They  went  with  a  crowd  of  neighbors,  friends, 
and  acquaintances  to  keep  each  other  company  on  the  journey. 
They  were  cheerful  like  people  going  to  a  festival  rather  than 
to  a  service  in  memory  of  a  solemn  crisis:  for  the  Passover  had 
become  at  Jerusalem  a  great  feast  day,  when  all  the  Jews  scat¬ 
tered  about  the  Empire  came  together. 

On  the  twelfth  Passover  after  the  birth  of  Jesus,  as  the 
group  from  Nazareth  was  returning  from  the  holy  city,  Mary 
found  that  her  son  was  not  with  them.  All  day  long  she  sought 
for  Him,  asking  every  acquaintance,  but  in  vain.  The  next 
morning  the  mother  turned  back,  retraced  her  steps  over  the 
road  and  went  up  and  down  the  streets  and  open  places  of 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


33 


Jerusalem,  fixing  her  dark  eyes  on  every  boy  she  met,  asking 
the  mothers  standing  in  the  open  doors,  begging  her  country¬ 
men  not  yet  gone,  to  help  her  find  her  lost  son.  A  mother  who 
has  lost  her  son  does  not  rest  until  she  has  found  him;  she 
thinks  no  more  of  herself,  she  does  not  feel  weariness,  effort, 
hunger.  She  does  not  shake  the  dust  from  her  clothes  nor  ar¬ 
range  her  hair.  She  cares  not  for  the  curious  glances  of  the 
passers-by.  Her  distracted  eyes  see  nothing  but  the  image  of 
him,  who  is  no  longer  beside  h^r. 

Finally  on  the  third  day  she  came  to  the  Temple,  looked 
about  in  the  courts,  and  saw  at  last  in  the  shadow  of  a  portico 
a  group  of  old  men  talking.  She  came  up  timidly,  for  those 
men  with  long  cloaks  and  long  beards  seemed  people  of  im¬ 
portance  who  would  pay  no  attention  to  a  plain  woman 
from  Galilee,  and  discovered  in  the  center  of  the  circle  the 
waving  hair,  the  shining  eyes,  the  tanned  face,  the  fresh  lips 
of  her  Jesus.  Those  old  men  were  talking  with  her  son  of  the 
Law  and  the  Prophets.  They  were  asking  Him  questions  and 
He  was  answering;  He  put  questions  to  them  in  His  turn  and 
they  marveled  at  Him,  astonished  that  a  boy  should  know  the 
words  of  the  Lord  so  well.  But  He  remembered  the  books 
which  He  had  heard  read  out  in  the  little  Synagogue  of  Naz¬ 
areth:  and  His  memory  had  retained  every  syllable. 

Mary  remained  for  a  few  moments  gazing  at  Him,  hardly 
believing  her  eyes.  Her  heart,  a  moment  before  beating  fast 
with  fear,  was  now  beating  fast  with  astonishment.  But  she 
could  not  restrain  herself  any  more  and  suddenly  in  a  loud  voice 
called  Him  by  name.  The  old  men  took  themselves  off  and  the 
mother  snatched  her  son  to  her  breast  and  silently  clasped  Him 
to  her,  the  tears  which  she  had  kept  back  till  then  raining  down 
on  His  face. 

She  clutched  Him,  took  Him  away,  and  then,  certain  that 
she  had  Him  with  her,  that  she  had  not  lost  Him,  the  happy 
mother  remembered  the  despairing  mother,  ^^Son,  why  hast 
thou  thus  dealt  with  us?  behold,  thy  father  and  I  have  sought 
thee  sorrowing.” 

^^How  is  it  that  ye  sought  me?  wist  ye  not  that  I  must  be 
about  my  Father’s  business?” 


34 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


Weighty  words,  especially  when  said  by  a  twelve-year-old 
boy  to  a  mother  who  had  sought  Him  for  three  long  days. 

And,  the  Evangelist  goes  on,  ‘^And  they  understood  not  the 
saying  which  he  spake  unto  them.”  But  after  so  many  cen¬ 
turies  of  Christian  experience  we  can  understand  those  words, 
which  seemed  at  first  sight  to  be  hard  and  proud. 

How  is  it  that  ye  sought  me?  Do  you  not  know  that  I  can 
never  be  lost,  that  I  can  never  be  lost  by  any  one,  even  those 
who  will  bury  me  under  the  earth?  I  will  be  everywhere  where 
any  one  believes  in  me,  even  if  they  do  not  see  me  with  their 
eyes.  I  cannot  be  lost  from  any  man,  by  any  man,  provided 
that  he  hold  me  in  his  heart.  I  shall  not  be  lost  alone  in  the 
desert  nor  alone  on  the  waters  of  the  lake,  nor  alone  in  the  gar¬ 
den  of  olives,  nor  alone  in  the  tomb. 

^^And  who  is  this  father  of  whom  you  speak  to  me?  He  is 
the  legal  father,  the  human  father,  but  my  real  Father  is  in 
heaven.  He  is  the  Father  who  spoke  to  the  patriarchs  face  to 
face,  who  put  words  into  the  mouths  of  the  prophets.  I  know 
what  He  told  them  of  me.  His  eternal  wishes,  the  laws  He  has 
given  to  His  people,  the  covenant  which  He  has  signed  with 
all  men.  If  I  am  to  do  what  He  has  commanded  me,  I  must 
be  busy  about  what  is  truly  His.  What  is  a  legal,  temporal 
tie  confronted  with  a  mystic,  spiritual  and  eternal  bond?” 

^  THE  WOODWORKER 

But  the  hour  for  really  leaving  His  home  had  not  come  for 
Jesus.  The  voice  of  John  had  not  yet  been  heard;  and  with 
His  father  and  mother  He  once  more  went  along  the  road  to 
Nazareth  and  returned  to  Joseph’s  shop  to  help  him  in  his 
trade. 

Jesus  did  not  go  to  school  to  the  Scribes  nor  to  the  Greeks. 
But  He  did  not  lack  for  teachers.  Three  teachers  He  had, 
greater  than  all  the  learned  :  work,  nature  and  the  Book. 

It  must  never  be  forgotten  that  Jesus  was  a  working  man 
and  the  adopted  son  of  a  working  man:  that  He  was  born  poor, 
among  people  who  worked  with  their  hands;  before  He  gave 
out  His  gospel  He  earned  His  daily  bread  with  the  labor  of  His 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


35 


hands.  Those  hands  which  blest  the  simple-hearted^  which 
cured  the  lepers,  which  gave  light  to  .the  blind,  which  brought 
the  dead  to  life,  those  hands  which  were  pierced  with  nails 
upon  the  cross,  were  hands  which  had  been  bathed  with  the 
sweat  of  labor,  hands  which  had  known  the  numbness  of  work, 
hands  which  were  callous  with  work,  hands  which  had  held 
the  tools  of  work,  which  had  driven  nails  into  wood,  the  hands 
of  a  working  man. 

Before  being  a  workman  of  the^  spirit,  Jesus  was  a  man  who 
worked  with  material  things.  He  was  poor  before  He  sum¬ 
moned  the  poor  to  His  table,  to  the  festival  of  His  Kingdom. 
He  was  not  born  into  a  wealthy  family,  into  the  house  of  luxury 
on  a  bed  covered  with  purple  and  fine  linen.  Descendant  of 
kings.  He  lived  in  a  woodworker’s  shop:  Son  of  God  He  was 
born  in  a  stable.  He  did  not  belong  to  the  caste  of  the  great, 
to  the  aristocracy  of  warriors,  to  the  circles  of  the  rich,  to  the 
Sanhedrim  of  the  priests.  He  was  born  into  the  lowest  class 
of  the  people,  the  class  which  has  below  it  only  the  vagabonds, 
the  beggars,  the  fugitives,  the  slaves,  the  criminals,  the  prosti¬ 
tutes.  When  He  became  no  longer  a  manual  worker.  He  went 
down  lower  yet  in  the  eyes  of  respectable  folk,  and  sought  His 
friends  in  that  miserable  huddle  which  is  even  below  the  com¬ 
mon  people.  But  until  that  day  when  Jesus,  before  going 
down  into  the  Inferno  of  the  dead,  went  down  into  the  Inferno 
of  the  living.  His  position  was  that  of  a  poor  working  man  and 
nothing  more,  in  the  hierarchy  of  castes  which  eternally  sep¬ 
arates  men. 

Jesus’  trade  is  one  of  the  four  oldest  and  most  sacred  of 
I  men’s  occupations.  The  trades  of  the  peasant,  the  mason,  the 
smith,  and  the  carpenter  are,  among  the  manual  arts,  those  most 
impregnated  with  the  life  of  man,  the  most  innocent  and  the 
most  religious.  The  warrior  degenerates  into  a  bandit,  the 
ii  sailor  into  a  pirate,  the  merchant  into  an  adventurer,  but  the 
i  peasant,  the  mason,  the  smith,  the  carpenter  do  not  betray, 
cannot  betray,  do  not  become  corrupt^  They  handle  the  most 
familiar  materials,  and  their  task  is  to  transform  them  visibly 
into  visible,  solid,  concrete  creations,  useful  to  all  men.  The 
1  peasant  breaks  the  clod  and  takes  from  it  the  bread  eaten  by 


1 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


36 

the  saint  in  his  grotto  and  the  murderer  in  his  prison;  the 
mason  squares  the  stone  and  builds  up  the  house  of  the  poor 
man,  the  house  of  the  king,  the  house  of  God.  The  smith 
heats  and  fashions  the  iron  to  give  a  sv/ord  to  the  soldier,  a 
plowshare  to  the  peasant,  a  hammer  to  the  carpenter.  The 
carpenter  saws  and  nails  the  wood  to  construct  the  door  which 
protects  the  house  from  the  thieves,  to  make  the  bed  on  which 
thieves  and  innocent  people  die. 

These  plain  things,  these  common,  ordinary,  usual  things, 
so  usual,  common  and  ordinary  that  they  pass  disregarded  un¬ 
der  our  eyes  used  to  more  complicated  marvels,  are  the  sim¬ 
plest  creations  of  man,  but  more  miraculous  and  essential  than 
any  later  inventions. 

Jesus,  the  carpenter,  lived  in  His  youth  in  the  midst  of  these 
things,  made  them  with  His  hands,  and  for  the  first  time  by 
means  of  these  things  manufactured  by  Him,  entered  into  com¬ 
munion  with  the  daily  life  of  men,  v/ith  the  most  intimate  and 
sacred  life,  home  life.  He  made  the  table  around  which  it  is  so 
sweet  to  sit  in  the  evening  with  one’s  friends,  even  if  one  of 
them  is  a  traitor;  the  bed  whereon  man  draws  his  first  and 
last  breath;  the  chest  where  the  country  wife  keeps  her  poor 
clothes,  her  aprons,  her  handkerchiefs  for  festivals,  and  the 
starched  white  shirts  for  great  days.  He  made  the  kneading 
trough  where  the  flour  is  put,  and  the  leaven  raises  it  until  it 
is  ready  for  the  oven;  and  the  arm-chair  where  the  old  men 
sit  around  the  fire  of  an  evening  to  talk  of  never-returning 
youth. 

Often  while  the  thin,  light  shavings  curled  up  under  the  steel 
of  His  plane  and  the  sawdust  rained  down  on  the  ground,  Jesus 
must  have  thought  of  the  promises  of  the  Father,  of  the  prophe¬ 
cies  of  old  time,  of  what  He  was  to  create,  not  with  boards  and 
rules,  but  with  spirit  and  truth. 

His  trade  taught  Him  that  to  live  means  to  transform  dead 
and  useless  things  into  living  and  useful  things  :  that  the  mean¬ 
est  material  fashioned  and  shaped  can  become  precious, 
friendly,  useful  to  men:  that  the  only  way  to  bring  salvation 
is  to  transform;  and  that  just  as  a  child’s  crib  or  a  wife’s  bed 
can  be  made  out  of  a  log  of  olive  wood,  gnarled,  knotty  and 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


37 


earthy,  so  the  filthy  money-changer  and  the  wretched  prosti¬ 
tute  can  be  transformed  into  true  citizens  of  the  Kingdom  of 
Heaven. 


FATHERHOOD 

In  nature  where  the  sun  shines  on  the  good  and  on  the  bad, 
where  wheat  ripens  and  grows  golden  to  give  bread  to  Jew  and 
heathen,  where  the  stars  shine  qn  the  shepherd’s  cabin  and  the 
murderer’s  prison;  where  grape  clusters  turn  purple  and  swell 
to  give  wine  to  the  wedding  banquet  and  to  the  orgies  of  as¬ 
sassins;  where  the  birds  of  the  air  freely  singing  find  their  food 
without  fatigue,  where  thieving  foxes  also  have  their  refuge  and 
the  lilies  of  the  field  are  clad  in  more  splendor  than  kings, 
Jesus  found  the  earthly  confirmation  of  His  eternal  certainty 
that  God  is  not  a  Master  who  punishes  one  day  of  enjoyment 
by  a  thousand  years  of  reproach,  nor  a  fierce  war-like  Jehovah 
who  commands  the  extermination  of  enemies,  nor  a  kind  of 
grand  sultan  who  delights  in  being  served  by  satraps  of  high 
lineage  and  keeps  close  watch  that  his  servants  execute  to  the 
last  detail  the  rigorous  ritualistic  etiquette  of  that  Regia  Curia, 
which  is  the  Temple. 

As  a  Son,  Christ  knew  that  God  is  Father:  Father  of  all 
mankind  and  not  only  of  the  people  of  Abraham.  The  love  of 
a  husband  is  strong  but  carnal  and  jealous.  The  love  of  a 
brother  is  often  poisoned  with  envy;  that  of  a  son  stained  with 
rebellion;  that  of  a  friend  spotted  with  deceit;  that  of  a  mas¬ 
ter  swollen  with  condescending  pride;  only  the  love  of  a  father 
towards  his  children  is  perfect  love,  pure,  disinterested  love. 
The  father  does  for  his  son  what  he  would  do  for  no  one  else. 
His  son  is  his  creation,  flesh  of  his  flesh  and  of  his  bone,  grown 
up  by  his  side  day  by  day,  a  completion  and  a  complement  of 
his  own  being.  The  old  man  lives  again  in  the  young  man. 
The  past  sees  itself  in  the  future.  He  who  has  lived  sacrifices 
himself  for  him  who  is  to  live.  The  father  lives  in  the  son,  and 
feels  himself  exalted.  This  child  was  born  to  him  in  a  moment 
of  passion  in  the  arms  of  the  woman  chosen  from  among  all 
other  women,  born  through  the  divine  anguish  of  this  woman, 


38 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


cared  for  and  preserved  by  his  own  tears  and  sweat.  He  has 
seen  him  grow  up  at  his  feet,  he  has  warmed  his  cold  little 
hands  between  his  own,  he  has  heard  his  first  words,  eternal 
miracle  ever  new!  He  has  seen  his  first  wavering  footsteps  on 
the  floor  of  his  house.  Little  by  little,  he  has  seen  a  soul  shine 
out  in  that  body  created  by  him,  a  new  human  soul,  unique 
treasure  beyond  price!  Little  by  little  on  that  face  he  has 
seen  his  own  features  and  those  of  the  child’s  mother,  of  that 
woman  with  whom  only  in  this  common  fruit  is  he  corporeally 
identified.  A  human  couple  who  long  to  become  one  body 
through  love,  attain  this  unity  only  in  a  child.  In  the  presence 
of  this  new  being,  his  creation,  he  feels  himself  a  creator,  be¬ 
neficent,  powerful,  happy.  Because  the  son  looks  to  his  father 
for  everything,  and  in  his  childhood  has  faith  only  in  his 
father,  feels  safe  only  near  his  father,  his  father  knows  that 
he  must  live  for  him,  suffer  for  him,  work  for  him.  A  father 
is  a  God  on  earth  for  a  son,  and  a  son  is  almost  a  God  for  the 
father. 

In  the  love  of  a  father  there  is  no  trace  of  a  brother’s  per¬ 
functory  sense  of  duty,  no  trace  of  a  friend’s  self-interest  and 
rivalry,  of  a  lover’s  lustful  desire,  a  servant’s  pretense  of  faith¬ 
fulness. 

The  love  of  a  father  is  pure  love,  the  only  true  love,  the  only 
love  rightly  to  be  called  love.  Purged  of  any  elements  foreign 
to  its  essence,  it  is  the  happiness  of  sacrificing  oneself  for  the 
happiness  of  others. 

This  idea  of  God  as  Father,  which  is  one  of  the  great  new 
ideas  of  the  gospel  of  Christ,  this  profoundly  renovating  idea 
that  God  is  Father  and  loves  us  as  a  father  loves  his  children, 
not  as  a  king  loves  his  slaves;  and  gives  daily  bread  to  all  his 
children  and  has  a  loving  welcome  even  for  those  who  sin  if 
only  they  return  to  lean  their  heads  upon  his  breast:  this  idea 
which  closes  the  epoch  of  the  old  covenant  and  marks  the  be¬ 
ginning  of  the  new  covenant,  Jesus  found  in  nature.  As  Son  of 
God  and  one  with  the  Father,  He  had  always  been  conscious  of 
this  paternity  scarcely  glimpsed  by  the  most  luminous  of  the 
prophets.  But  now  sharing  all  human  experience  He  saw  it  re¬ 
flected  and  as  it  were  revealed  in  the  universe  and  He  was  to 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST  39 

use  the  most  beautiful  images  of  the  natural  world  to  transmit 
to  men  the  first  of  His  joyful  messages. 

THE  COUNTRY 

Jesus,  like  all  great  souls,  loved  the  country.  The  sinner 
craving  purification,  the  saint  moved  to  prayer,  the  poet  eager 
to  create,  take  refuge  on  the  m.ountains  in  green  shadows,  by 
the  sound  of  the  water,  in  the^midst  of  fields  which  perfume 
heaven,  or  on  steep  desert  hills  parched  by  the  sun.  Jesus 
took  His  language  from  the  country:  He  hardly  ever  uses 
learned  words,  abstract  conceptions,  drab  and  generalizing 
terms.  His  talk  blossoms  with  colors,  is  perfumed  by  odors 
of  field  and  of  orchard,  is  peopled  by  the  figures  of  familiar 
animals.  He  saw  in  His  Galilee  the  figs  swelling  and  ripening 
under  the  great,  dark  leaves:  He  saw  the  dry  tendrils  of  the 
vine  greened  over  with  leaves,  and  from  the  trellises  the  white 
and  purple  clusters  hanging  down  for  the  joy  of  the  vintage; 
He  saw  from  the  invisible  seed,  the  mustard  raise  itself  up  with 
its  rich  light  branches.  Fie  heard  in  the  night  the  mournful 
rustle  of  the  reeds  shaken  by  the  wind  along  the  ditches:  He 
saw  the  seed  of  grain  buried  in  the  earth  and  its  resurrection  in 
the  form  of  a  full  ear;  when  the  air  first  began  to  be  warm.  He 
saw  the  beautiful  red,  yellow  and  purple  lilies  in  the  midst  of 
the  tender  green  of  the  wheat:  He  saw  the  fresh  tufts  of  grass, 
luxuriant  to-day  and  to-morrow  dried  and  cast  into  the  oven; 
He  saw  the  peaceful  animals  and  the  harmful  animals,  the  dove 
a  little  vain  of  its  brilliant  neck,  cooing  of  love  on  the  roof,  the 
eagle  swooping  down  with  widespread  wings  upon  its  prey; 
the  swallows  of  the  air  which  like  kings  cannot  fall  if  it  is  not 
God’s  wish:  the  crows  tearing  flesh  from  carrion  with  their 
beaks;  the  loving  mother-hen  calling  the  chickens  under  her 
wings  when  the  sky  darkens  and  thunders;  the  treacherous  fox, 
after  its  kill,  slinking  back  into  its  dark  lair;  and  the  dogs  un¬ 
der  the  table  of  their  masters  begging  for  scraps  that  fall  to  the 
ground.  He  saw  the  serpent  writhing  through  the  grass  and 
the  dark  viper  hiding  among  the  scattered  stones  of  the  tombs. 

Born  among  the  shepherds,  He  who  was  to  become  shepherd 


40 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


of  men  knew  and  loved  the  flocks;  the  ewes  searching  for  the 
lost  lamb,  the  lambs  bleating  weakly,  and  sucking,  almost  hid¬ 
den  under  their  mother’s  woolly  bodies,  the  flocks  sweltering 
on  the  thin  hot  pastures  of  their  hills  ;  He  loved  with  equal  love 
the  tiny  seed  which  you  can  scarcely  see  on  the  palm  of  your 
hand  and  the  ancient  fig  tree,  casting  its  shade  over  the  poor 
man’s  house;  the  birds  of  the  air  which  sow  not  neither  do 
they  reap;  the  fish  silvering  the  meshes  of  the  nets  to  feed  His 
faithful;  and  raising  His  e3^es  in  the  sultry  evenings  of  gather¬ 
ing  storm.  He  saw  the  lightning  flashing  out  of  the  east  and 
shattering  the  darkness  of  the  night,  even  into  the  west. 

But  Jesus  did  not  read  only  in  the  open  many-colored  book 
of  the  world.  He  knew  that  God  spoke  to  men  through  angels, 
patriarchs  and  prophets.  His  words,  His  laws,  His  victories 
are  written  in  the  Book.  Jesus  knew  the  magic  black  signs  by 
which  the  dead  pass  on  to  those  not  yet  born,  the  thoughts  and 
memories  of  olden  times.  Jesus  read  only  the  books  where 
His  ancestors  had  set  down  the  story  of  His  people,  the  will  of 
the  Lord,  the  vision  of  the  Prophets,  but  He  knew  them  in  the 
letter  and  spirit  better  than  the  scribes  and  the  doctors:  and 
that  knowledge  gave  Him  the  right  to  leave  off  being  scholar 
and  to  become  teacher. 

THE  OLD  COVENANT 

Among  all  peoples  the  Jew  was  the  most  happy  and  the  most 
unhappy.  His  story  is  a  mystery  which  begins  with  the  idyl  in 
the  Garden  of  Eden  and  ends  with  the  tragedy  of  the  hill  of 
Golgotha.  His  first  parents  were  molded  by  the  luminous 
hands  of  God,  were  made  masters  of  Paradise,  the  country  of 
eternal,  fertile  summer,  set  in  the  midst  of  rivers,  where  the 
rich  Oriental  fruits  hung  down  ready  to  their  hand,  heavy  with 
pulp  in  the  shade  of  the  new  young  leaves.  The  new-created 
sky,  not  yet  sullied  by  clouds,  not  yet  riven  by  lightning,  or 
harassed  by  winds,  watched  over  the  first  two  with  all  its  stars. 

The  first  couple  had  as  their  duty  to  love  God  and  to  love 
each  other.  This  was  the  First  Covenant.  Weariness  un¬ 
known,  grief  unknown,  unknown  death  and  its  terror!  The 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


41 


first  disobedience  brought  the  first  exile;  the  man  was  con¬ 
demned  to  work,  the  woman  to  bring  forth  her  young  in  pain. 
Work  is  painful,  but  it  brings  the  reward  of  harvests;  to  give 
birth  means  suffering,  but  it  brings  the  consolation  of  children. 
And  yet  even  these  inferior  and  imperfect  felicities  passed 
away  like  leaves  devoured  by  worms.  For  the  first  time 
brother  killed  brother:  human  blood  fallen  on  the  earth  be¬ 
came  corrupt,  gave  forth  an  exhalation  of  sin:  the  daughters 
of  men  united  themselves  with  ^demons  and  from  them  were 
born  giants,  fierce  hunters  and  slayers  of  men,  who  turned  the 
world  into  a  bloody  hell. 

Then  God  sent  His  second  punishment:  to  purify  the  world 
in  an  exterminating  baptism  He  drowned  in  the  waters  of  the 
flood  all  men  and  their  crimes.  One  only,  a  righteous  man, 
was  saved  and  with  him  God  signed  the  Second  Covenant. 

With  Noah  there  began  the  happy  days  of  antiquity,  the 
epoch  of  the  patriarchs,  nomad  shepherds,  centenarians  who 
wandered  between  Chaldea  and  Egypt  searching  for  grazing 
lands,  for  wells,  and  for  peace.  They  had  no  fixed  country, 
no  houses,  no  cities.  They  brought  along  in  caravans,  numer¬ 
ous  as  armies,  their  fruitful  wives,  their  loving  sons,  their  docile 
daughters-in-law,  their  innumerable  descendants,  obedient 
man-servants  and  maid-servants,  goring,  bellowing  bulls,  cows 
with  hanging  udders,  playful  calves,  rams  and  strong  smelling 
he-goats,  mild  sheep  laden  with  wool,  great  earth-colored 
camels,  mares  with  round  cruppers,  she-goats  holding  their 
heads  high  and  stamping  impatiently;  and  hidden  in  the  sad¬ 
dle-bags,  vases  of  gold  and  silver,  domestic  idols  of  stone  and 
metal. 

Arrived  at  their  destination,  they  spread  their  tents  near  a 
cistern,  and  the  patriarch  sat  out  under  the  shade  of  the  oaks 
and  sycamores  contemplating  the  great  camp  from  which  rose 
up  the  smoke  of  the  fires,  the  sound  of  the  bustling  steps  of  the 
women  and  herdsmen,  the  mooings,  the  brayings,  the  bleating 
of  the  animals.  And  the  patriarch’s  heart  was  filled  with  con¬ 
tent  to  see  all  this  progeny  issued  from  his  seed,  all  these,  his 
herds,  the  human  increase  and  the  animal  increase  multiplying 
year  by  year. 


42 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


In  the  evening,  he  raised  his  eyes  to  greet  the  first  punctual 
star  which  shone  like  white  fire  on  the  summit  of  the  hill;  and 
sometimes  his  curled  white  beard  shone  in  the  white  light  of 
the  moon,  which  for  more  than  a  century  he  was  wont  to  see 
in  the  sky  at  night. 

Sometimes  an  angel  of  the  Lord  came  to  visit  him,  and  be¬ 
fore  giving  the  message  with  which  he  was  charged,  ate  at  his 
table.  Or,  in  the  heat  of  the  day,  the  Lord  Himself,  in  the 
garb  of  a  pilgrim,  came  and  sat  down  with  the  old  man  in  the 
shadow  of  the  tent  where  they  talked  with  each  other,  face  to 
face,  like  two  old  friends  who  come  together  to  discuss  their 
affairs.  The  head  of  the  tribe,  master  of  the  servants,  be¬ 
came  a  servant  in  his  turn,  listened  to  the  commands  and  coun¬ 
sels  and  promises  and  prophecies  of  his  divine  master.  And 
between  Jehovah  and  Abraham  was  signed  the  Third  Cove¬ 
nant,  more  solemn  than  the  other  two. 

The  son  of  a  patriarch,  sold  by  his  brothers  as  a  slave,  rises 
to  power  in  Egypt,  and  calls  his  race  to  him.  The  Jews 
think  that  they  have  found  a  fatherland  and  grow  great  in 
numbers  and  riches.  But  they  allow  themselves  to  be  seduced 
by  the  gods  of  Egypt,  and  Jehovah  prepares  the  third  punish¬ 
ment.  The  envious  Egyptians  reduce  them  to  abject  slavery. 
That  the  punishment  may  be  longer,  Jehovah  hardens  the  heart 
of  Pharaoh,  but  finally  raises  up  the  second  Saviour,  who  leads 
them  forth  from  their  sufferings  and  from  the  mud  of  Eg)^t. 

Their  trials  are  not  yet  finished:  for  forty  years  they  wander 
in  the  desert.  A  pillar  of  cloud  guides  them  by  day  and  a  pillar 
of  fire  by  night.  God  has  assured  them  a  Land  of  Promise, 
with  rich  grazing  lands,  well-watered,  shaded  by  grape-vines 
and  olives.  But  in  the  meantime  they  have  neither  water  to 
drink  nor  bread  to  eat,  and  they  yearn  for  the  flesh-pots  of 
Egypt.  God  brings  water  gushing  from  a  rock;  and  manna 
and  quails  fall  from  heaven;  but  tired  and  uneasy,  the  Jews 
betray  their  God,  make  a  calf  of  gold  and  worship  it.  Moses, 
saddened  like  all  prophets,  misunderstood  like  all  saviours,  fol¬ 
lowed  unwillingly  like  all  discoverers  of  new  lands,  falls  back 
of  the  restive  and  rebellious  crowd  and  begs  God  to  let  him 
lie  down  forever.  But  at  any  cost,  Jehovah  desires  to  sign  the 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


43 


Fourth  Covenant  with  His  people.  Moses  goes  down  from  the 
smoke-capped  thundering  mountain,  with  the  two  tables  of 
stone  whereon  the  very  finger  of  God  has  written  the  Ten 
Commandments. 

Moses  is  not  to  see  the  Promised  Land,  the  new  Paradise 
to  be  reconquered  in  place  of  the  lost  Paradise.  But  the  divine 
pledge  is  kept:  Joshua  and  the  other  heroes  cross  the  Jordan, 
enter  into  the  land  of  Canaan,  and  conquer  the  people;  the 
cities  fall  at  the  breath  of  their  trumpets  ;  Deborah  can  sing  her 
song  of  triumph.  The  people  carry  with  them  the  God  of  bat¬ 
tles,  hidden  behind  the  tents,  on  a  cart  drawn  by  oxen.  But 
the  enemies  are  numerous  and  have  no  mind  to  give  way  to  the 
newcomers.  The  Jews  wander  here  and  there,  shepherds  and 
brigands,  victorious  when  they  maintain  the  covenants  of  the 
Law,  defeated  when  they  forget  them. 

A  giant  with  unshorn  hair  kills,  single-handed,  thousands  of 
Philistines  and  Amalekites,  but  a  woman  betrays  him;  enemies 
blind  him  and  set  him  to  turn  a  mill.  Heroes  alone  are  not 
enough.  Kings  are  needed.  A  young  man  of  the  tribe  of 
Benjamin,  tall  and  well-grown,  while  looking  for  his  father’s 
strayed  asses,  is  met  by  a  Prophet  who  anoints  him  with  the 
sacred  oil,  and  makes  him  king  of  all  the  people.  Saul  becomes 
a  powerful  warrior,  overcomes  the  Ammonites  and  Amalekites 
and  founds  a  military  kingdom,  dreaded  by  neighboring  tribes. 
But  the  same  prophet  who  made  him  king,  now  aroused  against 
him,  raises  up  a  rival.  David,  the  boy  shepherd,  kills  the 
king’s  giant  foe,  tempers  with  his  harp  the  black  rages  of  the 
king,  is  loved  by  the  king’s  oldest  son,  marries  the  daughter  of 
the  king,  is  among  the  king’s  captains.  But  Saul,  suspicious 
and  unbalanced,  wishes  to  kill  him.  David  hides  himself  in 
the  caves  of  the  mountains,  becomes  a  robber  chief.  He  goes 
into  the  service  of  the  Philistines,  and  when  they  conquer  and 
kill  Saul  on  the  hills  of  Gilboa,  he  becomes  in  his  turn  king  of 
all  Israel.  The  bold  sheep-tender,  great  as  poet  and  as  king, 
yet  cruel  and  lustful,  founds  his  house  in  Jerusalem,  and  with 
the  aid  of  his  gibborim,  or  body-guard,  overcomes  and  sub¬ 
jugates  the  surrounding  kingdoms.  For  the  first  time,  the 
Jew  is  feared:  for  centuries  after  this  he  was  to  long  for  the 


44 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


return  of  David,  and  to  hope  for  a  descendant  of  David  to 
save  him  from  his  abject  subjugation. 

David  is  the  King  of  the  sword  and  of  song.  Solomon  is  the 
King  of  gold  and  of  wisdom.  Gold  is  brought  to  him  as  a 
tribute:  he  decks  with  gold  the  first  sumptuous  house  of  Je¬ 
hovah.  He  sends  ships  to  faraway  Ophir  in  search  of  gold; 
the  Queen  of  Sheba  lays  down  sacks  of  gold  at  his  feet.  But 
all  the  splendor  of  gold  and  the  wisdom  of  Solomon  are  not 
enough  to  save  the  king  from  impurity  and  his  kingdom  from 
ruin.  He  takes  strange  women  to  wife  and  worships  strange 
gods.  The  Lord  pardons  his  old  age,  in  memory  of  his  youth, 
but  at  his  death  the  kingdom  is  divided  and  the  dark  and 
shameful  centuries  of  the  decadence  begin.  Plots  in  the  palace, 
murders  of  kings,  revolts  of  chiefs,  wretched  civil  wars,  periods 
of  idol-worship  followed  by  passing  reforms,  fill  the  period  of 
the  separation.  Prophets  appear  and  admonish,  but  the  kings 
turn  a  deaf  ear  or  drive  them  away.  The  enemies  of  Israel 
grow  more  powerful.  The  Phoenicians,  the  Egyptians,  the  As¬ 
syrians,  the  Babylonians,  one  after  another,  invade  the  two 
kingdoms,  extort  tribute  and  finally,  about  600  years  before 
the  birth  of  Jesus,  Jerusalem  is  destroyed,  the  temple  of  Je¬ 
hovah  is  demolished  and  the  Jews  are  led  as  slaves  to  the  rivers 
of  Babylon.  The  cup  of  their  infidelity  and  of  their  sins  runs 
over  and  the  same  God  who  liberated  them  from  the  slavery 
of  the  Egyptians  gives  them  over  as  slaves  to  the  Babylonians. 
This  is  the  fourth  punishment  and  the  most  terrible  of  all  be¬ 
cause  it  is  to  have  no  end.  From  that  time  on,  the  Jews  were 
always  to  be  dispersed  among  strangers  and  subject  to  for¬ 
eigners.  Some  of  them  were  to  return  to  reconstruct  Jerusalem 
and  its  temple,  but  the  country,  invaded  by  the  Scythians, 
tributary  to  the  Persians,  conquered  by  the  Greeks,  was  after 
the  last  attempt  of  the  Maccabeans  finally  given  over  to  the 
hands  of  a  dynasty  of  Arab  barbarians,  subject  to  the  Romans. 

This  race,  which  for  so  many  years  lived  rich  and  free  in 
the  desert,  and  for  a  day  was  master  of  kingdoms  and  believed 
itself,  under  the  protection  of  its  God,  the  first  people  of  the 
earth,  was  now  reduced  in  numbers,  spurned  and  commanded 
by  foreigners,  was  the  laughing-stock  of  the  nations,  the  Job 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


45 


among  peoples.  After  the  death  of  Jesus,  its  fate  was  to  be 
harder  yet:  Jerusalem  destroyed  for  the  second  time:  in  the 
devastated  province  only  Greeks  and  Romans  holding  sway, 
and  the  last  fragments  of  Israel  scattered  over  the  earth  like 
dust  of  the  street  driven  before  the  sirocco. 

Never  were  people  so  loved  nor  so  dreadfully  chastised  by 
their  God.  Chosen  to  be  the  first,  they  were  the  servants  of 
the  last.  Aspiring  to  have  a  victorious  country  of  their  own, 
they  were  exiles  and  slaves  in  other  men’s  lands. 

Although  more  pastoral  than  warlike,  they  never  were  at 
peace  either  with  themselves  or  with  others.  They  fought  with 
their  neighbors,  with  their  guests,  with  their  leaders.  They 
fought  with  their  prophets  and  with  their  God  Himself. 

Breeding-ground  of  corruption,  governed  by  men  guilty  of 
homicide,  treachery,  adultery,  incest,  robbery,  simony  and 
idolatry,  yet  their  women  gave  birth  to  the  most  perfect  saints 
of  the  Orient,  upright,  admonishing,  solitary  prophets;  and 
finally  from  this  race  was  born  the  Father  of  the  new  saints. 
He  who  had  been  awaited  by  all  the  Prophets. 

This  people  which  created  no  metaphysics  nor  science,  nor 
music,  nor  sculpture,  nor  art,  nor  architecture  of  its  own,  wrote 
the  grandest  poetry  of  antiquity,  glowing  with  sublimity  in 
the  Psalms  and  in  the  Prophets,  inimitably  tender  in  the  stories 
of  Joseph  and  Ruth,  burning  with  voluptuous  passion  in  the 
Song  of  Songs. 

Grown  up  in  the  midst  of  the  cults  of  local  rustic  gods,  they 
conceived  the  love  of  God,  the  one  universal  Father.  Rich  in 
gold  and  lands,  they  could  boast  in  their  prophets  of  the  first 
defenders  of  the  poor,  and  they  conceived  of  the  negation  of 
riches.  The  same  people  who  had  cut  the  throat  of  human 
victims  on  their  altars,  and  massacred  whole  cities  of  guiltless 
people,  gave  disciples  to  Him  who  preached  love  for  our  ene¬ 
mies.  This  people,  jealous  of  their  jealous  God,  always  be¬ 
trayed  Him  to  run  after  other  gods.  Of  their  temple,  three 
times  built  and  three  times  destroyed,  nothing  remains  but  a 
piece  of  a  wall,  barely  enough  so  that  a  line  of  mourners  may 
lean  their  heads  against  it  to  hide  their  tears. 

But  this  perplexing  and  contradictory  people,  superhuman 


46 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


and  wretched,  the  first  and  the  last  of  all,  the  happiest  and  the 
most  unhappy  of  all,  although  it  serves  other  nations,  still  dom¬ 
inates  other  nations  with  its  money  and  with  its  Bible.  Al¬ 
though  without  a  country  of  its  own  for  centuries,  it  is  among 
the  owners  of  all  countries.  Although  it  crucified  its  greatest 
Son  with  His  blood,  it  divided  the  history  of  the  world  into  two 
parts:  and  the  progeny  of  those  god-killers  has  become  the 
most  infamous  but  the  most  sacred  of  all  the  peoples. 

THE  PROPHETS 

Never  was  a  people  so  warned  as  were  the  Jews,  from  the 
beginning  of  the  temporal  kingdom  to  its  dismemberment:  in 
the  great  days  of  the  victorious  Kings,  in  the  sorrowful  days  of 
exile,  in  the  evil  days  of  slavery,  in  the  tragic  days  of  the  dis¬ 
persion. 

India  has  its  ascetics,  who  hide  themselves  in  the  wilderness 
to  conquer  the  body  and  drown  the  soul  in  the  infinite.  China 
had  its  familiar  sages,  peaceful  grandfathers  who  taught 
civic  morality  to  working  people  and  emperors.  Greece  had 
her  philosophers,  who  in  their  shady  porticos  contrived  har¬ 
monious  systems  and  dialectic  pitfalls.  Rome  had  its  law¬ 
givers  who  recorded  on  bronze  for  the  peoples  and  the  centuries 
the  rules  of  the  highest  justice  attainable  to  those  who  command 
and  possess.  The  Middle  Ages  had  their  preachers,  who  wore 
themselves  out  in  the  effort  to  arouse  drowsy  Christianity  to  a 
remembrance  of  the  Passion  and  the  terror  of  Hell.  The  Jewish 
people  had  the  Prophets. 

The  Prophets  did  not  give  forth  their  prophecies  in  caves, 
spitting  out  saliva  and  words  together  from  their  tripods. 
They  spoke  of  the  future,  but  not  merely  of  the  future.  They 
foretold  things  not  yet  happened,  but  they  also  brought  to 
mind  the  past.  They  possessed  time  in  its  three  phases;  de¬ 
ciphering  the  past,  illuminating  the  present  and  threatening 
the  future. 

The  Jewish  Prophet  is  a  voice  speaking,  or  a  hand  writing, 
a  voice  speaking  in  the  palace  of  the  King  or  in  the  caves  of 
the  mountains,  on  the  steps  of  the  Temple  and  in  the  precincts 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


47 


of  the  Capitol.  He  is  a  voice  that  prays,  a  prayer  that  threat¬ 
ens,  a  threat  that  breaks  out  into  divine  hope.  His  heart  is 
afflicted,  his  mouth  is  full  of  bitterness,  his  arm  is  raised,  point¬ 
ing  out  punishment  to  come;  he  suffers  for  his  people;  because 
he  loves  his  people,  he  vituperates  them  :  he  punishes  them  that 
they  may  be  purified;  and  after  massacres  and  flames,  he 
teaches  the  resurrection  and  the  life,  triumph  and  blessedness, 
the  reign  of  the  new  David  and  the  Covenant  not  to  be  broken. 

The  Prophet  leads  the  idolater  back  to  the  true  God,  re¬ 
minds  the  perjurer  of  his  oath,  recalls  charity  to  the  oppressor, 
purity  to  the  corrupt,  mercy  to  the  fierce,  justice  to  kings, 
obedience  to  rebels,  punishment  to  sinners,  humbleness  to  the 
proud.  He  goes  before  the  king  and  reproaches  him,  he  goes 
down  among  the  dregs  of  the  people  and  scourges  them:  he 
greets  priests  with  blame;  presents  himself  to  the  rich  and 
brings  them  to  confusion.  He  announces  consolation  to  the 
poor,  recompense  to  the  afflicted,  health  to  the  sick,  liberation 
to  enslaved  peoples,  the  coming  of  the  conqueror  to  the  humili¬ 
ated  nation. 

He  is  not  a  king,  nor  a  prince,  nor  a  priest,  nor  a  scribe:  he 
is  only  a  man,  a  poor,  unarmed  man,  without  investitures  and 
without  followers.  He  is  a  solitary  voice,  a  lamenting  voice 
grieving,  a  puissant  voice  howling  and  calling  down  shame,  a 
voice  which  calls  to  repentance  and  promises  eternity. 

The  Prophet  is  not  a  philosopher;  it  matters  little  to  him 
whether  the  world  be  made  of  water  or  of  fire,  if  water  and  fire 
cannot  purify  men’s  souls. 

He  is  a  poet,  but  without  will  or  consciousness  that  he  is, 
when  the  fullness  of  his  indignation  and  the  splendor  of  his 
vision  create  powerful  images  which  rhetoricians  never  could 
invent.  He  is  not  a  priest,  for  he  has  never  been  anointed  in 
the  temple  by  the  mercenary  guardians  of  the  Book;  he  is  not 
i  a  King,  for  he  does  not  command  armed  men,  and  as  sword 
!  has  only  the  Word  which  comes  from  on  high;  he  is  not  a  sol¬ 
dier,  but  he  is  ready  to  die  for  his  God  and  his  people. 

The  prophet  is  a  voice  speaking  in  the  name  of  God  ;  a  hand 
writing  at  God’s  dictation;  he  is  a  messenger  sent  by  God  to 
!  warn  those  wandering  from  the  right  path,  who  have  forgotten 


48 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


the  Covenant.  He  is  the  secretary,  the  interpreter,  and  the 
delegate  of  God,  and  thus  superior  to  the  King  who  does  not 
obey  God,  superior  to  the  priest  who  does  not  understand  God, 
to  the  people  who  have  deserted  God  to  run  after  idols  of  wood 
and  stone! 

The  Prophet  is  the  man  who  sees  with  a  troubled  heart  but 
with  clear  eyes  the  evil  which  reigns  to-day,  the  punishment 
which  will  come  to-morrow,  and  the  kingdom  of  happiness 
which  will  follow  punishment  and  repentance. 

He  speaks  in  the  name  of  the  mute,  he  is  a  hand  for  him 
who  cannot  write,  a  defender  for  the  people  scattered  and  op¬ 
pressed,  an  advocate  for  the  poor,  an  avenger  for  the  humble 
who  cry  out  under  the  heel  of  the  powerful.  He  is  not  on  the 
side  of  those  who  tyrannize,  but  of  those  who  are  trodden  un¬ 
der  foot.  He  does  not  seek  out  the  satiated  and  the  greedy, 
but  the  hungry  and  the  wretched. 

A  troublesome  importunate  and  inopportune  voice,  hated  by 
the  great,  out  of  favor  with  the  crowd,  not  always  understood 
even  by  his  disciples.  Like  a  hyena  scenting  from  far  the 
stench  of  carrion,  like  a  raven  always  croaking  out  the  same 
cry,  like  a  hungry  wolf  howling  on  the  mountain  top,  the 
prophet  goes  up  and  down  the  streets  of  Israel  followed  by 
suspicion  and  malediction.  Only  the  poor  and  the  oppressed 
bless  him;  but  the  poor  are  weak  and  the  oppressed  can  only 
listen  in  silence.  Like  all  loud  truthtellers,  who  disturb  the 
slumbering  majority,  who  unsettle  the  sordid  peace  of  the  mas¬ 
ters,  he  is  avoided  like  a  leper,  persecuted  like  an  enemy. 
Kings  can  barely  tolerate  him,  priests  regard  him  as  an  enemy, 
the  rich  detest  him. 

Elijah  is  forced  to  flee  before  the  wrath  of  Jezebel,  slayer  of 
prophets;  Amos  is  banished  beyond  Israel  by  Amaziah,  priest 
of  Bethel;  Isaiah  is  killed  by  the  order  of  Manesseh;  Urijah 
cut  down  by  King  Jehoiakim;  Zacharias  stoned  between  the 
temple  and  the  altar;  Jonah  thrown  into  the  sea;  the  sword  is 
prepared  for  the  neck  of  John,  and  the  cross  is  ready  from 
which  Jesus  will  hang.  The  Prophet  is  an  accuser,  but  men 
are  not  willing  to  admit  that  they  are  guilty.  He  is  an  inter¬ 
cessor,  but  the  blind  are  not  willing  to  be  guided  by  the  en- 


t 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


49 


lightened.  He  is  an  announcer,  but  the  deaf  do  not  hear  his 
promises.  He  is  a  saviour,  but  men  rotting  in  fatal  diseases 
delight  in  their  maladies  and  refuse  to  be  cured.  Yet  the  word 
of  the  Prophets  shall  be  the  eternal  testimony  in  favor  of  this 
race  which  exterminated  them  but  was  capable  of  generating 
them.  And  the  death  of  a  prophet,  who  is  more  than  all  the 
prophets,  shall  suffice  to  expiate  the  crimes  of  all  the  other 
peoples  who  grub  about  in  the  dirt  of  the  earth. 

heVho  v^ill  come 

In  the  house  at  Nazareth  Jesus  meditates  on  the  Command¬ 
ments  of  the  Law,  and  in  the  fiery  laments  of  the  Prophets  He 
recognizes  His  destiny.  The  promises  are  insistent  like  knock¬ 
ing  on  obstinately  closed  doors.  They  are  repeated,  reiterated, 
never  denied,  always  confirmed.  Precise,  minute  with  irrefut¬ 
able  testimony,  they  foretell  the  story.  When  Jesus  at  the  be¬ 
ginning  of  His  thirtieth  year  presents  Himself  to  men  as  the 
Son  of  Man,  He  knows  what  awaits  Him,  even  to  the  last: 
His  life  to  come  is  already  set  down  day  by  day  in  pages  writ¬ 
ten  before  His  earthly  birth. 

He  knows  that  God  promised  Moses  a  new  prophet,  will 
raise  them  up  a  prophet  from  among  their  brethren,  like  unto 
thee,  and  will  put  my  words  in  his  mouth;  and  he  shall  speak 
unto  them  all  that  I  shall  command  him.”  God  will  make  a 
new  covenant  with  His  people.  “Not  according  to  the 
covenant  that  I  made  with  their  fathers  .  .  .  but  I  will  put 
my  law  in  their  inward  parts,  and  write  it  in  their  hearts.  .  .  . 
I  will  forgive  their  iniquity,  and  I  will  remember  their  sin  no 
more.”  A  covenant  inscribed  upon  souls  and  not  upon  stone; 
a  covenant  of  forgiveness  and  not  of  punishment! 

The  Messiah  will  have  a  precursor  to  announce  Him.  “Be¬ 
hold,  I  will  send  my  messenger,  and  he  shall  prepare  the  way 
before  me.” 

“For  unto  us  a  child  is  born,  unto  us  a  son  is  given:  and  the 
government  shall  be  upon  his  shoulder:  and  his  name  shall  be 
called  Wonderful,  Counsellor,  the  mighty  God,  the  everlasting 
Father,  the  Prince  of  Peace.”  But  the  people  will  be  blind  to 


50 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


Him  and  will  not  listen  to  Him:  “Make  the  heart  of  this  peo¬ 
ple  fat,  and  make  their  ears  heavy,  and  shut  their  eyes:  lest 
they  see  with  their  eyes,  and  hear  with  their  ears,  and  under¬ 
stand  with  their  hearts,  and  convert,  and  be  healed.” 

“And  he  shall  be  a  stone  of  stumbling  and  for  a  rock  of  of¬ 
fence  to  both  the  houses  of  Israel,  for  a  gin  and  for  a  snare  to 
the  inhabitants  of  Jerusalem.” 

He  will  not  magnify  and  flaunt  Himself  :  He  will  not  come  in 
proud  triumph,  “Rejoice  greatly,  O  daughter  of  Zion,  shout 
O  daughter  of  Jerusalem,  behold  thy  King  cometh  unto  thee: 
he  is  just  and  having  salvation,  lowly  and  riding  upon  an  ass, 
and  upon  a  colt,  the  foal  of  an  ass.” 

He  will  bring  justice  and  will  lift  up  the  unhappy;  “.  .  . 
because  the  Lord  hath  anointed  me  to  preach  good  tidings  unto 
the  meek;  he  hath  sent  me  to  bind  up  the  broken-hearted,  to 
proclaim  liberty  to  the  captives,  and  the  opening  of  the  prison 
to  them  that  are  bound;  ...  to  comfort  all  that  mourn.” 
“The  meek  also  shall  increase  their  joy  in  the  Lord,  and  the 
poor  among  men  shall  rejoice  in  the  Holy  One  of  Israel.  For 
the  terrible  one  is  brought  to  naught,  and  the  scorner  is  con¬ 
sumed,  and  all  that  watch  for  iniquity  are  cut  off.” 

“Then  the  eyes  of  the  blind  shall  be  opened,  and  the  ears 
of  the  deaf  shall  be  unstopped.  Then  shall  the  lame  man  leap 
as  an  hart,  and  the  tongue  of  the  dumb  sing.” 

“I,  the  Lord,  have  called  thee  in  righteousness  ...  to  open 
the  blind  eyes,  to  bring  out  the  prisoners  from  the  prison,  and 
them  that  sit  in  darkness  from  the  prison-house.” 

But  He  will  be  vilified  and  tortured  by  the  very  people  He 
comes  to  save:  “he  hath  no  form  nor  comeliness;  and  when 
we  shall  see  him,  there  is  no  beauty  that  we  should  desire  him. 
He  is  despised  and  rejected  of  men;  a  man  of  sorrows  and  ac¬ 
quainted  with  grief:  and  we  hid  as  it  were  our  faces  from  him; 
he  was  despised  and  we  esteemed  him  not. 

“Surely  he  hath  borne  our  griefs  and  carried  our  sor¬ 
rows:  yet  we  did  esteem  him  stricken,  smitten  of  God,  and 
afflicted. 

“But  he  was  wounded  for  our  transgressions,  he  was  bruised 
for  our  iniquities:  the  chastisement  of  our  peace  was  upon 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


51 


him;  and  with  his  stripes  we  are  healed.  All  we  like  sheep 
have  gone  astray;  we  have  turned  every  one  to  his  own  way; 
and  the  Lord  hath  laid  on  him  the  iniquity  of  us  all. 

^^He  was  oppressed,  and  he  was  afflicted,  yet  he  opened  not 
his  mouth:  he  is  brought  as  a  lamb  to  the  slaughter,  and  as  a 
sheep  before  her  shearers  is  dumb,  so  he  openeth  not  his 
mouth  ...  for  he  was  cut  off  out  of  the  land  of  the  living: 
for  the  transgression  of  my  people  was  he  stricken. 

^‘Yet  it  pleased  the  Lord  to  bruise  him;  he  hath  put  him  to 
grief:  when  thou  shalt^make  his  soul  an  offering  for  sin,  he 
shall  see  his  seed,  he  shall  prolong  his  days,  and  the  pleasure 
of  the  Lord  shall  prosper  in  his  hand.  He  shall  see  of  the 
travail  of  his  soul  and  shall  be  satisfied:  by  his  knowledge 
shall  my  righteous  servant  justify  many;  for  he  shall  bear  their 
iniquities.  Therefore  will  I  divide  him  a  portion  with  the 
great,  and  he  shall  divide  the  spoil  with  the  strong;  because 
he  hath  poured  out  his  soul  unto  death  ;  and  he  was  numbered 
with  the  transgressors;  and  he  bare  the  sins  of  many,  and 
made  intercession  for  the  transgressors.” 

He  will  not  draw  back  before  the  vilest  insults.  “I  gave  my 
back  to  the  smiters,  and  my  cheeks  to  them  that  plucked  off 
the  hair:  I  hid  not  my  face  from  shame  and  spitting.” 

All  will  be  against  Him  in  the  supreme  moment.  ^‘They 
have  spoken  against  me  with  a  lying  tongue.  They  compassed 
me  about  also  with  words  of  hatred;  and  fought  against  me 
without  a  cause.  For  my  love  they  are  my  adversaries.” 

The  son  cries  to  the  Father: 

“Thou  hast  known  my  reproach,  and  my  shame,  and  my 
dishonor:  mine  adversaries  are  all  before  thee. 

“Reproach  hath  broken  my  heart;  and  I  am  full  of  heavi¬ 
ness:  and  I  looked  for  some  to  take  pity,  but  there  was  none; 
and  for  comforters,  but  I  found  none. 

“They  gave  me  also  gall  for  my  meat;  and  in  my  thirst  they 
gave  me  vinegar  to  drink.” 

They  pierce  Him  with  nails  and  divide  His  clothes  among 
themselves. 

“For  dogs  have  compassed  me:  the  assembly  of  the  wicked 
have  inclosed  me:  they  pierced  my  hands  and  my  feet 


52 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


.  .  they  look  and  stare  upon  me.  They  part  my  garments 
among  them,  and  cast  lots  upon  my  vesture.” 

Too  late  they  will  understand  what  they  have  done  and  will 
repent. 

.  .  and  they  shall  look  upon  me  whom  they  have  pierced, 
and  they  shall  mourn  for  him,  as  one  mourneth  for  his  only 
son,  and  shall  be  in  bitterness  for  him,  as  one  that  is  in  bitter¬ 
ness  for  his  first  born.” 

^‘Yea,  all  kings  shall  bow  down  before  him;  all  nations  shall 
serve  him. 

“For  he  shall  deliver  the  needy  when  he  crieth;  the  poor 
also,  and  him  that  hath  no  helper.  He  shall  spare  the  poor  and 
needy,  and  shall  save  the  souls  of  the  needy.” 

“The  sons  also  of  them  that  afflicted  thee  shall  come  bend¬ 
ing  unto  thee;  and  all  they  that  despised  thee  shall  bow  them¬ 
selves  down  at  the  soles  of  thy  feet.” 

“For  behold,  the  darkness  shall  cover  the  earth,  and  gross 
darkness  the  people:  but  the  Lord  shall  arise  upon  thee,  and 
his  glory  shall  be  seen  upon  thee. 

“And  the  Gentiles  shall  come  to  thy  light,  and  kings  to  the 
brightness  of  thy  rising. 

“Lift  up  thine  eyes  round  about,  and  see:  all  they  gather 
themselves  together,  they  come  to  thee:  thy  sons  shall  come 
from  far,  and  thy  daughters  shall  be  nursed  at  thy  side.” 

“Behold,  I  have  given  him  for  a  witness  to  the  people,  a 
leader  and  commander  to  the  people.  Behold,  thou  shalt  call 
a  nation  that  thou  knowest  not,  and  nations  that  knew  not 
thee  shall  run  into  thee  because  of  the  Lord  thy  God.” 

These  and  other  words  are  remembered  by  Jesus  in  the  vigil 
before  His  departure.  He  foresees  it  all  and  does  not  turn 
away  from  it.  From  now  on  He  knows  His  fate,  the  ingrati¬ 
tude  of  heart,  the  deafness  of  His  friends,  the  hatred  of  the 
powerful,  the  scourgings,  the  spittings,  insults,  scoffings,  oblo¬ 
quy,  piercing  of  the  hands  and  feet,  tortures  and  death.  He 
knows  that  the  Jews,  carnal-minded  materialists  embittered 
by  humiliation,  full  of  rancor  and  evil  thoughts,  are  not  await¬ 
ing  a  poor,  gentle,  despised  Messiah-  They  all,  except  a  few  of 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


53 


clear  and  prophetic  vision,  are  dreaming  of  a  terrestrial  Mes¬ 
siah,  an  armed  King,  a  second  David,  a  warrior  who  will  shed 
real  blood,  the  red  blood  of  enemies,  who  will  rebuild  more 
splendidly  than  ever  the  palace  of  Solomon  and  the  Temple. 
All  the  kings  will  bring  tribute  to  Him,  not  tribute  of  love  and 
reverence,  but  of  massy  gold  and  silver  coin.  This  earthly 
King  will  revenge  Himself  on  the  enemies  of  Israel,  on  those 
who  make  Israel  suffer,  who  hold  the  people  of  Israel  in  slavery. 
The  slaves  will  be  masters  and  the  masters  slaves,  and  all  the 
countries  of  the  world  will  have  their  capital  at  Jerusalem  and 
crowned  kings  will  kneel  before  the  throne  of  the  new  king  of 
Israel.  The  fields  of  Israel  will  be  more  fertile  than  all  the 
others,  their  pastures  richer,  their  flocks  will  multiply  end¬ 
lessly,  wheat  and  barley  will  be  harvested  twice  a  year,  the 
ears  of  wheat  will  be  heavier  than  in  the  past,  and  two  men 
will  bend  under  the  v/eight  of  a  single  bunch  of  grapes.  There 
will  not  be  enough  wine-skins  to  contain  the  vintage  nor 
enough  jars  to  hold  all  the  oil,  and  honey  will  be  found  in  the 
hollows  of  the  trees  and  in  the  hedges  of  the  roads.  The 
branches  of  the  trees  will  break  under  the  weight  of  the  fruit, 
and  the  fruit  will  be  pulpy  and  sweet  as  it  never  was  before. 

This  is  the  Messiah  expected  by  the  Jews  who  surround 
Jesus.  He  knows  He  cannot  give  them  what  they  seek,  that 
He  cannot  be  the  victorious  warrior  and  the  proud  king  tower¬ 
ing  up  among  subject  kings.  He  knows  that  His  kingdom 
is  not  of  this  earth  and  that  He  will  be  able  to  offer  only  a 
little  bread,  all  Flis  blood  and  all  His  love.  They  will  not  be¬ 
lieve  in  Him,  will  torture  Him  and  will  kill  Him  as  a  false  pre¬ 
tender.  He  knows  all  that.  He  knows  it  as  if  He  had  seen  it 
with  His  eyes  and  endured  it  with  His  body  and  soul.  But  He 
knows  that  the  seed  of  His  word  thrown  into  the  earth  among 
thistles  and  thorns,  trampled  under  foot  by  assassins,  will  start 
into  life  when  spring  comes.  At  first  beaten  down  by  the 
wind,  little  by  little  it  will  grow,  until  finally  it  becomes  a  tree 
stretching  its  branches  up  to  the  sky,  covering  the  earth  with 
the  boughs.  And  all  men  can  sit  round  about  it,  remembering 
the  death  of  Him  who  planted  it. 


54 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


THE  PROPHET  OF  FIRE 

While  Jesus,  in  the  poor  little  work-shop  at  Nazareth,  was 
handling  the  ax  and  the  square,  a  voice  was  raised  in  the  desert 
towards  Jordan  and  the  Dead  Sea.  Last  of  the  Prophets, 
John  the  Baptist  called  the  Jews  to  repent,  announced  the  ap¬ 
proach  of  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven,  predicted  the  coming  of  the 
Messiah,  reproved  the  sinners  who  came  to  him,  and  plunged 
them  into  the  water  of  the  river,  that  this  outer  washing  might 
be  the  beginning  of  an  inner  purification. 

In  that  dark  age  of  the  Herods,  old  Judea  profaned  by  the 
Idumean  usurpers,  contaminated  by  Greek  infiltration, 
scorned  by  the  Roman  soldiery;  without  King,  without  unity, 
without  glory;  already  half  dispersed  throughout  the  world; 
betrayed  by  their  own  priests;  always  remembering  the  gran¬ 
deur  of  their  earthly  kingdom  of  a  thousand  years  ago;  always 
obstinately  hoping  for  a  great  vengeance,  for  a  miraculous 
resurrection,  for  a  return  of  victory  in  a  triumph  of  its  God,  in 
the  coming  of  a  Saviour,  of  a  liberator,  of  an  anointed  one  who 
should  reign  in  a  new  Jerusalem  stronger  and  more  beautiful 
than  that  of  Solomon,  and  from  Jerusalem  dominate  all  the 
peoples,  overcome  all  other  monarchs,  conquer  all  empires  and 
bring  happiness  to  its  nation  and  to  all  men, — old  Judea  hating 
its  masters,  robbed  by  the  publicans,  plagued  by  the  mercenary 
scribes  and  by  the  hypocritical  Pharisees,  old  Judea  divided, 
humiliated,  plundered  and  yet  in  spite  of  all  its  shame  full  of 
faith  for  the  future,  willingly  lent  an  ear  to  the  voice  of  the 
desert,  and  hastened  to  the  banks  of  the  Jordan. 

John’s  figure  was  one  to  conquer  the  imagination.  A  chHd 
sprung  by  a  miracle  from  parents  of  great  age,  he  was  set  apart 
from  his  birth  to  be  Nazir — pure.  He  had  never  cut  his  hair, 
had  never  tasted  wine  or  cider,  had  never  touched  a  woman 
nor  knov/n  any  love  except  that  for  God.  While  he  was  still 
young,  he  had  left  his  parents’  home  and  buried  himself  in  the 
desert.  There  he  lived  for  many  years  alone,  without  a  house, 
without  a  tent,  without  servants,  with  nothing  of  his  own  ex¬ 
cept  what  he  had  on  his  back.  Wrapped  in  his  camel’s  skin, 
his  flanks  girt  by  a  leather  belt,  tall,  bony,  baked  by  the  sun, 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


55 


his  chest  hairy,  his  hair  hanging  long  on  his  shoulders,  his  long 
beard  almost  covering  his  face,  his  piercing  eyes  flashed  like 
lightning  from  under  his  busy  eyebrows  when  from  his  mouth 
hidden  by  his  beard  burst  out  the  tremendous  words  of  his 
maledictions. 

This  hypnotic  wild  man,  solitary  as  a  Yogi,  despising  pleas¬ 
ure  like  a  stoic,  seemed  to  those  whom  he  baptized  the  last 
hope  of  a  despairing  people. 

Jesus  heard  the  people  talk  of  those  ^^washed  ones”  who  re¬ 
turned  from  Jordan  and  tbok  up  their  former  lives,  as  in  the 
morning  a  garment  is  resumed  which  was  thrown  away  with  re¬ 
lief  the  evening  before;  and  He  understood  that  His  day  grew 
near.  He  was  now  in  His  thirtieth  year,  the  right  and  destined 
age.  Before  he  is  thirty,  a  man  is  only  a  sketch,  an  approxi¬ 
mation,  dominated  by  the  common  sentiments  and  common 
loves  of  all.  He  does  not  know  men  well,  and  hence  cannot 
love  them  with  that  love,  sweet  with  compassion,  with  which 
they  should  be  loved.  And  without  knowing  them  or  knowing 
how  to  love  them,  he  cannot  speak  with  authority,  cannot  make 
himself  heard,  has  not  the  power  of  saving  them. 

THE  FIRST  ANNUNCIATION 

The  desert  sun  burned  John’s  body  and  his  fiery  longing 
for  the  Kingdom  burned  like  a  flame  in  his  soul.  He  was  the 
foreteller  of  fire.  He  saw  in  the  Messiah,  soon  to  appear,  the 
master  of  flame.  The  New  King  will  be  a  fierce  husbandman. 
Every  tree  which  bringeth  not  forth  good  fruit  is  hewn  down 
and  cast  into  the  fire.  He  will  thoroughly  purge  His  floor  and 
gather  His  wheat  into  the  garner,  but  He  will  burn  up  the  chaff 
with  unquenchable  fire.  He  will  be  a  baptizer  who  will  bap¬ 
tize  with  fire. 

Rigid,  wrathful,  harsh,  shaggy,  quick  to  insult,  impatient 
and  impetuous,  John  was  not  gentle  with  those  who  came  to 
him.  He  took  no  satisfaction  in  having  drawn  them  to  take 
this  first  step  towards  repentance.  When  Pharisees  and  Saddu- 
cees,  notable  men,  learned  in  the  Scriptures,  esteemed  by  the 
crowd,  of  authority  in  the  temple  came  to  be  baptized,  he 


56 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


shamed  them  more  than  the  others.  “O  generation  of  vipers, 
who  hath  warned  you  to  flee  from  the  wrath  to  come?  Bring 
forth  therefore  fruits  meet  for  repentance:  And  think  not  to 
say  within  yourselves,  We  have  Abraham  for  our  father:  for 
I  say  unto  you,  that  God  is  able  of  these  stones  to  raise  up 
children  unto  Abraham.” 

You  who  lock  yourselves  up  into  houses  of  stonè  as  vipers 
hide  themselves  under  the  rocks,  you  Pharisees  and  Sadducees, 
are  harder  than  stone:  your  minds  are  petrified  in  the  letter 
and  the  rites  of  the  law:  your  selfish  hearts  are  stony:  to  the 
hungry  who  ask  bread  of  you,  you  give  a  stone,  and  you 
throw  the  stone  at  him  who  has  sinned  less  than  you.  You 
Pharisees  and  Sadducees,  you  are  haughty  statues  of  stone 
which  only  fire  can  conquer,  since  water  poured  over  you  is 
quickly  dried  up.  But  God,  who  from  a  handful  of  earth  made 
Adam,  could  make  from  stones  from  the  shore,  with  rocks  from 
the  cliff,  other  men,  other  living  beings,  other  sons  for  Himself. 
He  could  change  granite  into  flesh  and  soul,  while  you  have 
changed  soul  and  flesh  into  granite.  It  is  not  enough  therefore 
to  bathe  in  the  Jordan.  That  ablution  is  holy  and  salutary. 
Change  your  life,  do  the  opposite  of  what  you  have  done  until 
now,  if  you  do  not  wish  to  be  burned  up  by  Plim,  who  will  bap¬ 
tize  by  fire.  “And  the  people  asked  him,  saying.  What  shall  we 
do  then?  He  answereth  and  saith  unto  them.  He  that  hath 
two  coats,  let  him  impart  to  him  that  hath  none,  and  he  that 
hath  meat,  let  him  do  likewise.” 

“Then  came  also  publicans  to  be  baptized  and  said  unto  him. 
Master,  v/hat  shall  we  do?  And  he  said  unto  them.  Exact 
no  more  than  that  which  is  appointed  you. 

“And  the  soldiers  likewise  demanded  of  him,  saying.  And 
what  shall  we  do?  And  he  said  unto  them.  Do  violence  to  no 
man,  neither  accuse  any  falsely;  and  be  content  with  your 
wages.” 

Compelling,  almost  superhuman  when  he  announced  the  ter¬ 
rible  separation  of  the  good  from  the  bad,  John  becomes  com¬ 
monplace  when  he  descends  to  particulars  and  falls,  one  might 
say,  exactly  into  the  Pharisean  tradition.  His  only  advice  is 
to  give  alms,  to  give  away  the  superfluous.  From  the  publicans 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


57 


he  asks  only  strict  justice:  let  them  take  what  has  been  allotted 
and  nothing  more.  To  the  fierce,  thieving  tribe  of  soldiers,  he 
recommends  only  discretion!  ‘‘Be  satisfied  with  your  pay  and 
do  not  rob.’’  This  is  nothing  more  or  less  than  the  Mosaic  law. 
Long  before  him,  Amos  and  Isaiah  had  gone  further. 

Now  is  the  time  for  the  accuser  of  the  Dead  Sea  to  give  way 
to  the  liberator  of  the  Sea  of  Tiberias.  The  lot  of  precursors 
is  hard:  they  know,  but  are  not  permitted  to  see;  they  arrive 
on  the  banks  of  the  Jordan,  but  do  not  enjoy  the  promised 
land;  they  make  plain  the  path  for  him  who  comes  after  them, 
but  will  pass  beyond  them.  They  prepare  the  throne  and  do 
not  seat  themselves  on  it.  They  are  servants  of  the  master 
whom  often  they  do  not  meet  face  to  face.  Perhaps  the  fierce¬ 
ness  of  John  is  justified  by  this  consciousness  of  being  an  am¬ 
bassador  and  nothing  more.  A  consciousness  which  is  never 
envious,  but  which  leaves  a  tinge  of  sadness,  even  in  his  humil¬ 
ity.  They  came  from  Jerusalem  to  ask  him  who  he  was, 
“What  then?  Art  thou  Elias?” 

“No.  I  am  not.” 

“Art  thou  that  Prophet?” 

“And  he  answered.  No.” 

“Art  thou  the  Christ?” 

“No.  .  .  .  He  said,  I  am  the  voice  of  one  crying  in  the 
wilderness.  .  .  .  He  it  is,  who  coming  after  me  is  pre¬ 
ferred  before  me,  whose  shoe’s  latchet  I  am  not  worthy  to 
unloose.” 

At  Nazareth,  in  the  meantime,  an  unknown  working  man 
was  lacing  up  His  shoes  with  His  own  hands  to  go  out  to  the 
wilderness,  resounding  with  the  voice  which  three  times  had 
thundered,  “No.” 


THE  VIGIL 

John  called  sinners  to  wash  in  the  river  before  repenting. 
Jesus  presented  Himself  to  John  to  be  baptized.  Did  He  then 
acknowledge  Himself  a  sinner? 

The  texts  are  explicit:  the  prophet  preached  the  baptism  of 
repentance  in  remission  of  sins.  He  who  went  to  him  acknowl- 


58  LIFE  OF  CHRIST 

edged  himself  a  sinner;  he  who  goes  to  wash,  feels  himself 
polluted. 

The  fact  that  we  know  nothing  of  the  life  of  Jesus  from  His 
twelfth  to  His  thirtieth  year,  exactly  the  years  of  fallible 
adolescence,  of  hot-blooded  youth,  has  given  rise  to  the  idea 
that  He  was  in  that  period,  or  at  least  held  Himself  to  have 
been,  a  sinner  like  other  men.  The  three  remaining  years  of 
His  life  are  the  most  brightly  lighted  by  the  words  of  the 
four  Gospels  because  in  thinking  of  the  dead,  what  we  most 
vividly  remember  are  their  words  and  deeds  during  the  last 
days  of  their  lives.  Nothing  of  what  we  know  of  those  three 
years  gives  any  indication  of  this  supposed  existence  of  sin  in 
Christ’s  life  between  the  innocence  of  its  beginning  and  the 
glory  of  its  ending. 

There  is  not  even  the  appearance  of  a  conversion  in  Christ’s 
life.  His  first  words  have  the  same  accent  as  the  last.  The 
spring  from  which  they  run  is  clear  from  the  first  day;  there 
is  no  muddy  sediment  of  evil.  He  begins  with  frank  absolute 
certainty,  with  the  recognizable  authority  of  purity.  You  can 
feel  that  He  has  left  nothing  turbid  back  of  Him.  His  voice 
is  clear  and  limpid,  a  melodious  song  not  roughened  by  the 
sour  lees  of  voluptuous  pleasure,  or  by  the  hoarseness  of  re¬ 
pentance.  The  transparent  serenity  of  His  look,  of  His  smile 
and  of  His  thought  is  not  the  calm  which  comes  after  the 
clouds  of  the  tempest,  or  the  uncertain  whiteness  of  the  dawn 
which  slowly  conquers  the  malign  shadow  of  the  night:  it  is 
the  clearness  of  Him  who  was  born  only  once,  and  remained 
a  youth  even  into  His  maturity:  the  limpidity,  the  transpar¬ 
ency,  the  tranquillity,  the  peace  of  a  day  v/hich  ends  in  night, 
but  is  not  darkened  until  evening:  eternal  day,  childhood 
intact  and  untarnished  until  death. 

He  goes  about  among  the  impure  with  the  natural  simplicity 
of  the  poor  among  sinners,  with  the  natural  strength  of  the 
sound  man  among  the  sick,  with  the  natural  boldness  of  health. 
On  the  other  hand,  the  man  who  has  been  converted  is  always 
at  the  back  of  his  mind  a  little  troubled.  A  single  drop  of  bit¬ 
terness,  a  light  shadow  of  impurity,  a  fleeting  suggestion  of 
temptation  is  enough  to  drive  him  back  into  anguish.  He 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


59 


always  feels  a  doubt  that  he  may  not  have  rid  himself  wholly 
of  the  old  Adam,  that  he  may  not  have  wholly  destroyed  but 
only  stunned  the  Other,  who  lived  in  his  body.  He  has  paid 
so  much  for  his  salvation,  and  it  seems  to  him  so  precious  but 
so  frail,  that  he  is  always  afraid  of  putting  it  into  jeopardy  or 
of  losing  it.  He  does  not  shun  sinners,  but  he  approaches  them 
with  an  involuntary  shudder,  with  a  scarcely  confessed  fear  of 
fresh  contagion,  a  dread  lest  the  sight  of  the  vileness  where  he 
also  took  delight  will  rene#  unbearably  the  recollection  of  his 
shame,  will  drive  him  to  despair  of  his  ultimate  salvation. 
When  a  servant  becomes  a  master  he  is  never  on  familiar 
terms  with  his  servants.  When  a  poor  man  becomes  rich  he 
is  not  generous  with  the  poor.  A  converted  sinner  is  not  al¬ 
ways  a  friend  of  sinners.  That  remnant  of  pride  which  sticks 
fast  in  the  hearts  even  of  saints  mingles  with  his  compassion. 
Why  do  sinners  not  do  what  he  has  done?  The  way  is  open 
to  all,  even  to  the  wickedest,  the  most  hardened:  the  prize  is 
great,  why  do  they  remain  down  there,  plunged  in  black  Hell? 

And  when  the  converted  sinner  speaks  to  his  brothers  to  con¬ 
vert  them,  he  cannot  refrain  from  dwelling  on  his  own  experi¬ 
ence,  his  fall,  his  liberation.  It  may  be  only  that  he  wishes  to 
be  helpful,  rather  than  to  vaunt  himself,  but  in  any  case  he  is 
always  eager  to  point  to  himself  as  a  living  and  present  ex¬ 
ample  of  the  sweetness  of  salvation. 

The  past  can  be  renounced,  but  not  destroyed.  It  reveals 
itself  almost  unconsciously  in  the  very  men  who  begin  life  with 
a  second  birth  of  repentance.  In  the  story  of  Jesus  no  sign  of 
a  different  way  of  life  before  conversion  ever  shows  itself  in 
^  any  allusion  or  in  any  implicit  meaning,  is  not  recognizable  in 
the  smallest  of  His  acts,  in  the  most  obscure  of  His  words. 
His  love  for  sinners  has  nothing  of  the  feverish  obstinacy  of 
the  proselytizing  penitent.  It  is  a  natural  love,  not  a  dutiful 
love.  It  is  brotherly  love  without  any  implications  of  re¬ 
proach,  spontaneous  friendly  fraternity  needing  to  make  no 
effort  to  overcome  repugnance.  It  is  the  attraction  towards  the 
impure  of  the  pure  who  has  no  fear  of  being  soiled  and  knows 
that  He  can  cleanse — disinterested  love — ^love  felt  by  the 
I  saints  in  the  supreme  moments  of  their  holiness — love  beside 


6o 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


which  all  other  love  seems  vulgar — such  love  as  no  man  saw 
before  Jesus!  Love  which  is  rarely  found  again,  and  only  in 
memory  and  in  imitation  of  His  love — ^love  which  will  always 
be  called  Christian,  and  by  any  other  name — ^never!  Divine 
love — Christ’s  love!  Love! 

Jesus  came  among  the  sinners,  but  He  was  no  sinner.  He 
came  to  bathe  in  the  water  running  before  John,  but  He  had 
no  inner  stain.  The  soul  of  Jesus  was  that  of  a  child,  so  child¬ 
like  as  to  outdo  sages  in  wisdom  and  saints  in  sanctity. 

He  was  no  rigorous  Puritan.  He  never  felt  the  terror  of 
the  morally  shipwrecked  man  barely  saved  from  destruction. 
He  was  no  overscrupulous  Pharisee.  He  knew  what  was  sin 
and  what  was  right  and  He  did  not  lose  the  spirit  in  the  laby¬ 
rinth  of  the  letter.  He  knew  life;  He  did  not  refuse  life  which 
though  not  a  good  in  itself  is  a  prerequisite  condition  of  all  good 
things.  Eating  and  drinking  are  not  wrong,  nor  looking  at 
people,  nor  sending  a  friendly  look  to  the  thief  lurking  in  the 
shade,  nor  to  the  woman  who  has  colored  her  lips  to  hide  the 
traces  of  unasked  kisses. 

THE  BAPTISM 

And  yet  Jesus  came  in  the  midst  of  a  crowd  of  sinners  to 
immerse  Himself  in  the  Jordan.  The  problem  is  not  mys¬ 
terious  for  him  who  sees  something  beyond  the  most  familiar 
meaning  in  the  rite  reinstituted  by  John.  The  case  of  Jesus  is 
unique.  The  baptism  of  Jesus  is  like  others  superficially,  but 
is  justified  in  other  ways.  Baptism  is  not  only  a  washing  of 
the  flesh  as  a  symbol  of  the  will  to  cleanse  the  soul,  a  remnant 
of  the  primitive  analogy  of  water  which  washed  away  material 
stains  and  can  wash  away  spiritual  stains.  This  physical  meta¬ 
phor  is  useful  to  the  symbolism  of  the  crowd,  is  a  necessary 
ceremony  for  the  carnal  eye  of  the  many  who  need  a  material 
help  to  believe  in  the  immaterial.  But  it  was  not  made  for 
Jesus. 

He  went  to  John  that  the  prophecy  of  the  precursor  might 
be  fulfilled.  His  kneeling  down  before  the  prophet  of  fire  was 
a  recognition  of  John’s  quality  of  true  announcer,  of  his  worth 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


6i 


as  a  loyal  ambassador  who  has  done  his  duty  who  can  say  now 
that  his  work  is  finished.  Jesus  submitting  Himself  to  this 
symbolical  investiture  really  invests  John  with  the  legitimate 
title  of  precursor. 

Jesus,  about  to  begin  a  new  epoch  of  His  life,  His  true  life, 
bore  witness  by  His  immersion  in  water  to  His  willingness  to 
die,  but  at  the  same  time  to  His  certainty  that  He  would  rise 
again.  He  did  not  go  down  to  the  Jordan  to  cleanse  Himself, 
but  to  show  that  His  second  life  was  beginning  and  that  He 
will  not  die,  but  only  seem  to  die,  just  as  He  only  seemed  to  be 
purified  by  the  waters  of  the  Jordan. 

THE  DESERT 

As  soon  as  Jesus  emerged  from  the  water  He  went  into  the 
desert.  From  the  multitude  to  solitude!  Until  then  He  had 
lived  among  the  waters  and  the  fields  of  Galilee  and  in  the 
green  meadows  along  the  Jordan.  Now  He  went  up  on  the 
rocky  mountains  whence  no  springs  arise,  where  no  seed 
sprouts,  where  the  only  living  creatures  are  snakes.  Until 
then  He  had  lived  among  the  working  men  of  Nazareth,  among 
John^s  penitents;  now  He  goes  up  on  the  solitary  mountains 
where  no  human  face  is  seen,  where  no  human  voice  is  heard. 
The  New  Man  puts  the  desert  between  himself  and  humanity. 

The  person  who  says,  “woe  to  the  solitary!’^  only  gives  the 
measure  of  his  own  cowardice.  Society  is  a  sacrifice,  merito¬ 
rious  in  proportion  to  its  hardness.  For  those  rich  in  soul,  soli¬ 
tude  is  a  prize  and  not  an  expiation,  a  period  of  sure  value,  a 
time  when  inner  beauty  is  created,  a  reconciliation  with  the 
absent.  Only  in  solitude  do  we  live  with  our  peers,  with  those 
solitary  souls  who  think  the  great-hearted  thoughts  which  con¬ 
sole  us  in  the  absence  of  other  consolations. 

The  people  who  cannot  endure  solitude  are  the  mediocre  and 
the  mean.  They  have  nothing  to  offer,  they  are  afraid  of  them¬ 
selves,  of  their  own  emptiness.  They  are  condemned  to  the 
eternal  solitude  of  their  own  minds,  a  desolate  inner  desert 
where  the  poisonous  plants  of  waste  lands  are  the  only  things 
to  grow.  They  are  restless,  unquiet,  dejected  when  they  can- 


62 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


not  forget  themselves  in  others,  deafen  themselves  with  the 
words  of  others.  They  delude  themselves  with  the  factitious 
life  of  others  who  are  in  their  turn  deluded  by  it.  They  cannot 
live  without  mingling,  a  passive  atom,  in  the  streams  which 
overflow  every  morning  from  the  sewers  of  the  cities. 

Jesus  lived  among  men  and  He  was  to  return  among  men 
because  He  loved  them.  But  in  the  years  to  come  He  often 
hid  Himself,  to  be  alone,  far  even  from  His  disciples.  To  love 
men,  you  need  from  time  to  time  to  depart  from  them:  far 
from  them,  we  draw  near  to  them.  The  small  soul  remembers 
only  the  evil  they  have  done  him.  His  night  is  restless  with 
bitterness  and  his  mouth  poisoned  with  anger.  The  great  soul 
remembers  benefits  alone,  and  thankful  for  a  few  good  deeds, 
forgets  the  great  evils  he  has  endured.  Even  those  v/hich  were 
not  pardoned  at  the  moment  are  blotted  out  from  his  heart, 
and  having  renewed  his  original  love  for  his  brothers,  he  goes 
back  to  men. 

For  Jesus  these  forty  days  of  solitude  are  the  last  of  His 
preparation.  For  forty  years  the  Jewish  people  (prophetic 
symbol  of  Christ)  wandered  in  the  desert  before  entering 
into  the  kingdom  promised  by  God.  For  forty  days  Moses  re¬ 
mained  close  to  God  to  hear  His  laws;  for  forty  days  Elijah 
wandered  in  the  desert  fleeing  the  vengeance  of  the  wicked 
queen. 

So  also  the  time  allotted  to  the  new  liberator  before  announc¬ 
ing  the  promised  kingdom  was  forty  days  of  close  communion 
with  God  to  receive  the  supreme  inspiration.  But  even  in  the 
desert  He  was  not  to  be  entirely  alone:  about  Him  throughout 
the  vigil  will  be  animals  and  angels;  beings  inferior  to  man 
and  beings  superior;  those  who  pull  man  down  and  those  who 
lift  him  up;  beings  all  matter,  beings  all  spirit. 

Born  an  animal,  man  struggles  to  become  an  angel.  He  is 
matter  changing  by  slow  transmutation  into  spirit.  If  the 
animal  gets  the  upper  hand,  man  descends  below  the  level  of  the 
beasts  because  he  puts  the  remnants  of  his  intelligence  at  the 
service  of  bestiality:  if  the  angel  conquers,  man  becomes  the 
equal  of  angels,  and  instead  of  being  a  mere  soldier  in  the 
army  of  God,  partakes  of  divinity  itself.  But  the  fallen  angel 


63 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 

41 

condemned  to  wear  the  form  of  a  beast  is  the  astute  and  tena¬ 
cious  enemy  of  all  men  who  wish  to  climb  that  height  from 
which  he  was  cast  down.  Jesus  is  the  enemy  of  the  material 
world,  of  the  bestial  life  of  the  many.  He  was  born  into  the 
world  in  order  that  beasts  should  become  men,  and  men  be¬ 
come  angels.  He  was  born  to  change  the  world  and  to  conquer 
it,  to  fight  with  the  king  of  the  world,  that  enemy  of  God  and 
of  men,  the  malign,  the  suborner,  the  seducer.  He  was  born  to 
drive  Satan  from  the  earth  as  His  father  drove  him  from 
Heaven. 

Therefore  at  the  end  of  the  forty  days,  Satan  came  into  the 
desert  to  tempt  his  enemy. 

THE  ADVERSARY 

Our  slavery  to  matter  is  branded  on  our  lives  by  the  daily 
need  of  our  bodies  for  food,  and  Jesus  wished  to  conquer  our 
slavery  to  matter.  Whenever  He  shared  human  lives.  He  con¬ 
sented  to  eat  and  drink,  because  His  friends  did,  because  it  is 
right  to  give  to  the  flesh  that  which  belongs  to  the  flesh,  and 
finally  as  a  visible  protest  against  the  h3q3ocritical  fasts  of  the 
Pharisees.  The  last  act  of  His  earthly  mission  was  a  supper, 
but  the  first  after  His  baptism  was  a  fast.  Alone  where  His 
abstinence  could  not  shame  His  simple-hearted  companions, 
where  it  could  not  be  confused  with  ostentatious  piety.  He  for¬ 
got  to  eat. 

But  after  forty  days  He  was  hungry.  Satan,  tenacious  and 
invisible,  was  waiting  for  this  moment  of  material  need,  and 
seized  on  it.  The  Adversary  spoke:  ‘Hi  thou  be  the  Son  of 
God  command  this  stone  that  it  be  made  bread.” 

The  reproof  was  prompt:  “It  is  written  that  man  shall  not 
live  by  bread  alone,  but  by  every  word  of  God.” 

Satan  did  not  admit  a  defeat,  and  from  the  top  of  a  moun¬ 
tain  showed  Him  all  the  kingdoms  of  the  earth:  “All  this  power 
will  I  give  thee,  and  the  glory  of  them:  for  that  is  delivered 
unto  me;  and  to  whomsoever  I  will  I  give  it.  If  thou  there¬ 
fore  wilt  adore  me,  all  shall  be  thine.” 

And  Jesus  answered,  “Get  thee  behind  me,  Satan:  for  it  is 


64  LIFE  OF  CHRIST 

written  thou  shalt  worship  the  Lord  thy  God,  and  him  only 
shalt  thou  serve.’’ 

Then  Satan  took  Him  to  Jerusalem  and  set  Him  on  the  pin¬ 
nacle  of  the  Temple,  “If  thou  be  the  Son  of  God  cast  thyself 
down  from  hence.” 

But  Jesus  answered  quickly:  “It  is  written;  thou  shalt  not 
tempt  the  Lord  thy  God.” 

“And  when  the  Devil  had  completed  every  temptation,” 
Luke  goes  on,  “he  departed  from  him  for  a  season.”  We 
shall  see  his  return  and  his  last  effort. 

This  dialogue  seems  at  first  sight  only  a  bandying  about  of 
Scriptural  texts.  Satan  and  Jesus  do  not  use  their  own  words, 
but  compete  by  means  of  quotations  from  the  Scriptures.  We 
seem  to  be  listening  to  a  theological  dispute;  but  as  a  matter 
of  fact  it  is  the  first  Parable  of  the  Gospels  acted  out  and  not 
put  into  words. 

It  is  not  surprising  that  Satan  should  have  come  with  the 
absurd  hope  of  causing  Jesus  to  fall.  It  is  not  surprising  that 
Jesus  since  He  was  a  man  should  have  undergone  temptation. 
Satan  only  tempts  the  great  and  pure.  To  the  others  he  does 
not  need  even  to  murmur  a  word  of  invitation.  They  are 
already  his,  from  their  childhood  on.  He  need  give  himself 
no  trouble  to  win  their  allegiance,  they  are  in  his  arms  before 
he  summons  them  And  yet  many  of  them  do  not  know  that 
he  exists.  He  never  has  presented  himself  to  them  because 
they  obey  him  from  a  distance.  Thus,  not  having  known 
him,  they  are  ready  to  deny  him.  The  devil’s  cohorts  do  not 
believe  in  the  devil.  It  was  said  of  old  that  the  devil’s  shrewd¬ 
est  ruse  was  to  spread  abroad  the  rumor  of  his  death.  He 
takes  all  forms,  so  beautiful  sometimes  that  no  one  recognizes 
him.  The  Greeks,  for  instance,  marvels  of  intelligence  and 
elegance,  had  no  place  for  Satan  in  their  mythology,  because 
all  their  Gods,  when  closely  examined,  show  the  horns  of  Satan 
under  their  crowns  of  laurel  and  grape  leaves.  Satanical  is 
tyrannical  and  lustful  Jove,  adulterous  Venus,  Apollo  the 
flayer,  murderous  Mars,  drunken  Dionysius.  They  were  so 
astute,  the  gods  of  Greece,  that  they  gave  the  people  love-po- 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST  65 

tions  and  distilled  perfumes  to  keep  them  from  detecting  the 
stench  of  the  evil  that  consumes  the  world. 

But  if  many  do  not  know  him  and  laugh  at  him  as  at  a 
specter  invented  in  church  for  the  needs  of  penitents,  there  are 
some  who  cry  out  upon  those  who  know  him  but  do  not  follow 
him.  He  seduced  the  innocence  of  the  first  two  created  beings, 
he  suborned  David  the  strong,  corrupted  Solomon  the  wise, 
accused  Job  the  righteous  before  the  throne  of  God.  Satan 
tempts  and  always  will  tempt  all  the  saints  who  hide  them¬ 
selves  in  the  desert,  all  those  who  love  God.  The  more  we 
go  away  from  him  the  closer  he  is;  the  higher  we  are,  the  more 
he  rages  to  bring  us  low;  he  can  soil  only  that  which  is  clean 
and  he  gives  no  care  to  the  filth  which  spontaneously 
ferments  under  the  hot  breath  of  animality.  To  be  tempted 
by  Satan  is  a  proof  of  purity,  a  sign  of  greatness,  and  shows  a 
man  that  he  is  on  the  upward  path.  He  who  has  known  Satan 
and  has  seen  him  face  to  face,  may  well  have  hope  for  him¬ 
self.  More  than  any  other,  Jesus  merited  this  consecration. 
Satan  challenged  Him  twice  and  tempted  Him  once.  He  asked 
Him  to  transform  dead  matter  into  matter  that  gives  life  and 
to  cast  Himself  down  from  a  height  so  that  God  by  saving 
Him  should  proclaim  Him  as  His  true  son.  He  offered  Him 
the  possession  and  the  glory  of  earthly  kingdoms  on  condition 
that  instead  of  serving  God  Jesus  should  promise  to  serve  the 
Demon.  He  asks  material  bread  and  a  material  miracle  of 
Him  and  promises  Him  material  power.  Jesus  does  not  take 
up  the  challenge  and  refuses  what  is  offered. 

He  is  not  the  fleshly,  temporal  Messiah,  desired  by  the 
Jewish  crowd,  the  material  Messiah  such  as  the  Tempter  in 
his  baseness  imagines  Him.  He  did  not  come  to  bring  food  to 
bodies  but  food  to  souls, — truth,  that  living  food.  When  His 
brothers,  far  from  home,  lack  bread  enough  for  their  hunger. 
He  will  break  the  few  loaves  which  His  disciples  bring  and  all 
will  have  enough  and  they  will  fill  baskets  with  the  remnants. 
But  except  in  cases  of  necessity  He  will  not  be  the  distributor 
of  that  bread  which  comes  from  the  earth  and  returns  to  earth. 
If  He  should  change  the  stones  of  the  street  into  bread,  every 


66 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


one  would  follow  Him  through  love  of  his  own  body  and 
would  pretend  to  believe  everything  He  said.  Even  the  dogs 
would  come  to  His  banquet.  But  this  He  does  not  wish.  Those 
who  follow  Him  must  believe  in  His  word  in  spite  of  hunger, 
grief  and  poverty.  Thus  those  who  wish  to  follow  Him  must 
leave  behind  them  fertile  fields,  they  must  leave  behind  them 
money  which  can  be  changed  into  bread.  They  must  go  with 
Him  without  knapsack  or  payment,  with  one  garment,  and 
live  like  the  birds  of  the  air,  husking  ears  of  grain  in  the  fields, 
or  begging  alms  at  house  doors.  One  can  live  without  terres¬ 
trial  bread  :  a  fig  left  on  the  tree  among  the  leaves,  a  fish  drawn 
frora  the  lake  can  take  the  place  of  bread.  But  no  man  can 
live  without  heavenly  bread,  if  he  wishes  to  escape  eternal 
death,  which  is  the  portion  of  those  who  have  never  tasted  it. 
Man  does  not  live  by  bread  alone,  but  by  love,  fervor,  and 
truth,  Jesus  is  ready  to  transform  the  Kingdom  of  Earth  into 
the  Kingdom  of  Heaven,  furious  bestiality  into  happy  sanctity, 
but  He  does  not  deign  to  transform  stones  into  bread,  matter 
into  other  matter. 

For  similar  reasons  Jesus  refused  the  other  challenge.  Men 
love  the  wonderful,  the  visibly  wonderful,  the  prodigy,  the 
physical  impossibility  made  possible  before  their  eyes.  They 
hunger  and  thirst  after  portents.  They  are  ready  to  prostrate 
themselves  before  the  wonder-worker  even  if  he  is  an  evil  man 
or  a  charlatan.  From  Jesus  they  all  asked  for  a  Sign,  meaning 
by  that,  a  gigantic  juggling  feat;  but  He  always  refused.  He 
did  not  wish  to  persuade  by  means  of  the  miraculous.  He 
consented  to  cure  the  sick— especially  those  sick  in  spirit  and 
sinners — ^but  He  often  avoided  the  occasion  even  for  these 
miracles,  and  He  begged  those  cured  not  to  speak  the  name  of 
their  healer.  And  He  never  used  this  power  for  His  own 
safety,  not  even  at  Gethsemane  when  Satan  tempted  Him  to 
put  away  the  cup  of  death  from  His  lips,  nor  when  He  was 
nailed  to  the  cross  and  Satan  repeated  his  challenge  by  the 
mouth  of  the  Jews.  ‘Hf  thou  art  the  Son  of  God,  come  down 
from  the  cross  and  save ,  thyself In  the  night  of  His  vigil 
and  in  the  high  noon  of  His  death.  He  resisted  Satan  and  had 
recourse  to  no  miracle  to  save  Himself.  Men  must  believe 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


67 


Him  in  spite  of  all  contrary  evidence,  believe  in  His  divinity 
even  when  confronted  with  what  seems  His  common  humanity. 
It  is  no  fit  deed  for  Jesus  needlessly  to  throw  Himself  down 
from  the  Temple;  to  bring  an  end  to  the  pain  of  another  with 
the  sole  purpose  of  conquering  men,  and  fascinating  them  with 
wonder  and  terror;  to  put  God  to  a  test,  to  force  Him  as  it 
were,  to  accomplish  a  rash  and  superfluous  miracle,  only  in 
order  that  Satan  may  not  win  the  infamous  wager  founded 
on  sarcasm  and  on  arrogance.  Loving,  it  is  to  human  hearts 
He  wishes  to  speak;  sublime  in  character,  He  wishes  to  bring 
sublimity  into  human  lives;  a  pure  spirit.  He  wishes  to  purify 
other  spirits;  deep-hearted,  to  light  the  flame  of  love  in  others; 
a  great  spirit,  to  bring  greatness  to  little,  mean,  neglected  souls. 
Instead  of  throwing  Himself  like  a  vulgar  magician  from  the 
precipice  which  is  below  the  Temple,  He  will  go  up  from  the 
Temple  upon  the  Mount  to  give  out  from  on  high  the  beati¬ 
tudes  of  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven. 

The  offer  of  the  Kingdoms  of  the  Earth  must  have  been 
horrible  to  Him,  and  still  more  the  price  that  Satan  asked. 
Satan  has  the  right  to  offer  what  is  his.  The  Kingdoms  of  the 
Earth  are  founded  on  force  and  maintained  with  deceit.  They 
are  Satan’s  own  country,  they  are  his  Paradise  regained. 
Satan  sleeps  every  night  on  the  pillows  of  the  powerful.  They 
pay  material  tribute  to  him,  and  give  him  daily  offerings  in 
thought  and  deed.  But  Jesus  could  have  taken  away  their 
Kingdoms  from  the  Kings  without  bending  knee  to  the  Ad¬ 
versary.  He  had  only  to  offer  men  bread  without  work.  If 
like  a  juggling  mountebank  He  had  opened  a  public  theater  of 
popular  miracles,  the  multitude  would  have  acclaimed  Him. 
Had  He  wished  to  seem  the  Messiah  for  whom  the  Jews  had 
been  longing  during  their  dreary  slavery.  He  could  have  cor¬ 
rupted  them  with  plenty  and  with  marvels.  He  could  have  made 
of  every  land  a  country  of  grace  and  enchantment  and  He 
could  have  occupied  at  once  every  seat  of  the  procurators  of 
Satan. 

But  Jesus  does  not  wish  to  be  the  restorer  of  the  fallen  king¬ 
dom,  the  conqueror  of  hostile  empires.  Authority  is  of  little 
importance  to  Him  and  glory  still  less.  The  Kingdom  which 


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He  announces  and  prepares  has  nothing  in  common  with  the 
Kingdoms  of  the  Earth.  His  Kingdom  is  destined  rather  to 
bring  to  naught  the  Kingdoms  of  the  Earth.  The  Kingdom  of 
Heaven  is  in  us.  Any  day  when  a  soul  has  turned  to  righteous¬ 
ness  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven  is  enlarged  because  it  has  ac¬ 
quired  a  new  citizen,  snatched  from  the  Kingdom  of  Earth. 
When  every  one  is  good  and  righteous,  when  all  love  their 
brothers  as  fathers  love  their  sons,  when  even  enemies  love  one 
another  (if  there  still  are  enemies),  when  no  one  thinks  of 
amassing  treasure,  and  instead  of  taking  away  from  others, 
every  one  gives  bread  to  the  hungry  and  clothing  to  those  who 
are  cold, — where  on  that  day  will  be  the  Kingdom  of  the 
Earth?  Where  will  be  the  need  for  soldiers  when  no  one 
wishes  to  enlarge  his  own  land  by  stealing  that  of  his  neighbor? 
What  need  will  there  be  for  Kings  when  every  one  has  his  law 
in  his  conscience  and  when  there  are  no  armies  to  command 
nor  judges  to  select?  What  need  will  there  be  for  money  and 
for  tribute  when  every  one  is  sure  of  his  living  and  satisfied 
with  it,  and  there  are  no  wages  to  be  paid  to  soldiers  and  serv¬ 
ants?  When  every  one’s  soul  is  transformed,  those  so-called 
foundations  of  life  which  are  named  Society,  Country  and  Jus¬ 
tice  will  vanish  like  the  hallucinations  of  a  long  night.  The 
word  of  Christ  needs  neither  money  nor  armies.  And  if  it 
really  becomes  the  universal  life  of  the  conscience,  everything 
that  binds  and  blinds  men,  necessary  unjust  power,  the  criminal 
glory  of  battles,  will  fall  like  morning  mists  before  sunlight 
and  wind.  The  Kingdom  of  Heaven  within  is  One  and  it  will 
take  the  place  of  the  Kingdoms  of  Earth,  which  are  many.  The 
liberated  spirit  will  scarcely  remember  despotic  matter.  Men 
will  no  longer  be  divided  into  Kings  and  subjects,  masters  and 
slaves,  rich  and  poor,  the  arrogantly  virtuous,  the  humble 
sinners,  free  and  prisoners.  The  sun  of  God  will  shine  on  all, 
the  citizens  of  the  Kingdom  will  be  one  family  of  fathers 
and  brothers  and  the  gates  of  Paradise  will  be  open  again  to 
the  sons  of  Adam  become  as  gods. 

Jesus  conquered  Satan  in  Himself  and  now  came  out  of  the 
desert  to  conquer  him  among  men. 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


69 


THE  RETURN 

As  soon  as  Jesus  came  again  among  men,  He  learned  that 
the  Tetrarch  (second  husband  of  Herodias)  had  imprisoned 
John  in  the  fortress  of  Machaerus.  The  voice  crying  in  the 
wilderness  was  stilled  and  pilgrims  to  the  Jordan  saw  no  more 
the  long  shadow  of  the  wild  Baptizer  fall  across  the  water. 

He  had  done  his  work  and  was  now  to  give  way  to  a  more 
powerful  voice.  John  waited  in  the  blackness  of  the  prison 
until  his  bloody  head  was  carried  on  a  golden  platter  to  the 
banquet — almost  the  last  dish  served  to  that  evil  woman,  be¬ 
trayer  of  men. 

Now  Jesus  understands  that  His  day  is  at  hand,  and  crossing 
Samaria  He  returns  into  Galilee  to  announce  at  once  the  coming 
of  the  Kingdom.  He  does  not  go  to  Jerusalem,  the  city  of  the 
great  king,  the  capital.  Jesus  comes  to  destroy  that  Jerusalem 
of  stone  and  arrogance,  proud  on  its  three  hills,  hard  of  heart 
like  the  stones.  The  men  whom  Jesus  comes  to  combat  are 
precisely  those  who  glory  in  great  cities,  in  the  capitals,  in  the 
Jerusalems  of  the  world. 

At  Jerusalem  live  the  powerful  of  the  world,  the  Romans, 
masters  of  the  world  and  of  Judea,  with  their  soldiers  in  arms. 
Jerusalem  is  ruled  by  the  representatives  of  the  Caesars;  of 
Tiberius,  the  drunken  assassin,  the  perfidious  heir  of  Augustus, 
the  hypocritical  voluptuary,  and  of  Julius  the  adulterous 
spendthrift.  At  Jerusalem  live  the  High  Priests,  the  old  cus¬ 
todians  of  the  Temple,  the  Pharisees,  Sadducees,  Scribes,  the 
Levites  and  their  guards,  the  descendants  of  those  who  pur¬ 
sued  and  killed  the  prophets,  the  petrifiers  of  the  Law,  the 
bigots  of  the  letter,  the  haughty  depositories  of  arid  fanaticism. 
At  Jerusalem  are  the  treasurers  of  God,  the  treasurers  of 
Caesar,  the  guardians  of- the  treasure,  the  lovers  of  wealth;  the 
Publicans  with  their  excisemen  and  parasites,  the  rich  with 
their  servants  and  their  concubines,  the  merchants  with  their 
crowded  shops;  money  bags  clinking  with  shekels  in  the 
warmth  of  the  bosom  above  the  heart. 

Jesus  comes  to  combat  all  these.  Fie  comes  to  conquer  the 


70 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


masters  of  the  earth — the  earth  which  belongs  to  all;  to  con¬ 
found  the  masters  of  the  word — the  word  which  should  be 
spoken  freely  wherever  God  wishes;  to  condemn  the  masters 
of  gold,  base,  perishable  and  fatal  element.  He  comes  to  over¬ 
throw  the  kingdom  of  the  soldiers  of  Rome  who  oppress 
bodies;  the  kingdom  of  the  priests  of  the  Temple  who  oppress 
souls;  the  kingdom  of  the  heapers-up  of  money  who  oppress 
the  poor.  He  comes  to  save  bodies,  souls,  the  poor;  He 
teaches  liberty,  in  opposition  to  Rome;  setting  at  naught  the 
doctrines  of  the  Temple,  He  teaches  love;  He  teaches  poverty 
against  all  the  ideals  of  the  rich. 

He  does  not  wish  to  begin  His  message  in  Jerusalem  where 
His  enemies,  gathered  together,  are  the  strongest.  He  wishes 
to  surround  the  city,  take  it  from  the  outside,  arrive  there 
later  with  a  following  behind  Him,  when  already  the  Kingdom 
of  Heaven  has  begun  slowly  to  lay  siege  to  it.  The  Conquest 
of  Jerusalem  will  be  the  last  test,  the  supreme  trial,  the  great 
battle,  the  tremendous  battle  between  the  greater  than  the 
Prophets  and  Jerusalem,  slayer  of  Prophets.  If  He  should  go 
to  Jerusalem  now  (where  He  will  enter  presently  as  a  king  and 
whence  He  will  be  buried  as  a  criminal)  He  would  be  taken 
prisoner  at  once  and  would  not  be  able  to  sow  His  word  on 
less  ungrateful,  less  stony  soil. 

Jerusalem  like  all  capitals — great  sewers  to  which  flow  the 
refuse,  the  outcasts,  the  rubbish  of  the  nations — is  inhabited 
by  a  mob  of  frivolous,  elegant,  idle,  skeptical  and  indifferent 
people,  by  a  ceremonious  patrician  class  who  have  kept  only 
the  tradition  of  ritual  and  the  sterile  rancor  of  their  decadence; 
by  an  aristocracy  of  property  owners  and  speculators  who  be¬ 
long  to  the  herd  of  Mammon,  and  by  a  rebellious,  restless,  igno¬ 
rant  crowd,  controlled  only  by  the  superstition  of  the  Temple 
and  the  fear  of  the  foreigner’s  sword.  Jerusalem  was  not  fit 
soil  for  the  sowing  of  Jesus. 

A  man  from  the  provinces, — therefore  healthy  and  solitary — 
He  goes  back  to  His  province.  He  wishes  to  carry  the  tidings 
of  good  news  to  those  who  were  to  be  the  first  to  receive  Him, 
to  the  poor  and  the  humble  because  the  tidings  are  specially 
for  them,  because  they  have  long  been  waiting  for  them,  and 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


71 


because  more  than  any  others,  they  will  rejoice.  Jesus’  coming 
into  the  world  is  for  the  poor.  Therefore  leaving  Jerusalem, 
He  arrives  in  Galilee,  enters  into  the  Synagogue  and  begins  to 
teach. 

THE  REIGN  OF  GOD 

The  first  words  of  Jesus  are  few  and  simple,  very  much  like 
those  of  John,  “The  time  is  accomplished;  the  Kingdom  of 
God  is  at  hand;  repent  and  believe  the  Gospel.” 

Bare  words,  incomprehensible  to  moderns  by  their  very  so¬ 
briety.  To  understand  them  and  to  understand  the  difference 
between  the  message  of  John  and  the  message  of  Jesus,  they 
need  to  be  translated  into  our  language,  filled  again  with  their 
eternally  living  meaning. 

“The  time  has  come  !  ”  The  time  for  which  men  have  been 
waiting,  which  they  have  prophesied  and  announced.  John 
said  that  a  King  would  come  ready  to  found  the  new  King¬ 
dom,  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven.  The  King  has  come  and  an¬ 
nounces  that  the  doors  of  the  Kingdom  are  open.  He  is  the 
guide,  the  path,  the  hand,  before  being  King  in  all  the  splendor 
of  His  celestial  glory. 

When  Jesus  says  “The  time  is  accomplished,”  he  does  not 
refer  to  the  exact  date,  to  the  fact  that  it  was  the  fif¬ 
teenth  year  of  the  reign  of  Tiberius.  The  time  of  Jesus  is  now 
and  always  is  eternity.  The  moment  of  His  appearance,  the 
moment  of  His  death,  the  moment  of  His  return,  the  moment 
of  His  perfect  triumph,  has  not  yet  arrived,  not  even  yet! 
And  yet,  at  every  moment  the  time  is  accomplished,  every 
hour  is  the  fullness  of  time,  on  condition  that  the  workers  are 
ready.  Every  day  is  His;  His  era  is  not  written  down 
in  numbers:  there  is  no  chronology  in  eternity.  Every  time  a 
man  tries  to  enter  into  the  Kingdom,  confirms  the  Kingdom 
by  believing,  enriches  the  Kingdom,  consolidates,  defends,  pro¬ 
claims  its  perpetual  sanctity  and  its  perpetual  rightness  in  op¬ 
position  to  all  the  inferior  kingdoms  (inferior  because  they  are 
human,  not  divine,  earthly  not  heavenly)  then  always  the  time 
is  accomplished.  This  time  is  called  the  epoch  of  Jesus,  the 
Christian  era,  the  New  Covenant.  Not  quite  two  thousand 


72 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


years  divides  us  from  that  time;  not  quite  two  days,  because 
for  God,  and  for  men  of  understanding,  a  thousand  years  are 
as  a  day.  The  time  is  ripe;  even  to-day  we  are  in  the  full¬ 
ness  of  time.  Jesus  calls  us  even  now.  The  second  day  has 
not  yet  expired,  the  foundations  of  the  Kingdom  are  scarcely 
begun.  We  who  live  to-day,  this  year,  in  this  century  (and 
we  shall  not  always  be  alive,  and  we  shall  perhaps  not  see  the 
end  of  this  year,  and  certainly  we  shall  not  see  the  end  of  this 
century),  we,  I  say,  the  living,  can  take  part  in  this  Kingdom, 
enter  into  it,  live  in  it,  enjoy  it.  The  Kingdom  is  not  the  worn- 
out  fancy  of  a  poor  Jew  nearly  twenty  centuries  ago;  it  is  not 
an  archaism,  a  dead  memory,  a  bygone  frenzy.  The  Kingdom 
is  of  to-day,  of  to-morrow,  of  always;  a  reality  of  the  future  al¬ 
ways  just-realized,  alive,  actual,  ours;  a  work  started  a  short 
time  ago,  a  work  to  which  every  one  is  free  to  put  his  hand  to 
take  it  up,  to  carry  it  on.  The  word  seems  old,  the  message 
dim  with  antiquity  repeated  by  the  echoes  of  two  thousand 
years,  but  the  Kingdom — as  a  fact,  true,  accomplished — is 
new,  young,  born  yesterday,  still  to  grow,  to  flower,  to  pros¬ 
per.  Jesus  threw  the  seed  into  the  earth,  but  the  seed  has 
scarcely  germinated  in  two  thousand  years  passed  like  a 
stormy  winter,  in  the  space  of  sixty  human  generations.  Is  it 
perhaps  possible  that  our  own  time  after  the  flood  of  blood  is 
the  divine  and  longed-for  period? 

What  this  Kingdom  is,  we  shall  learn  page  by  page  in  the 
words  of  Jesus;  but  we  must  not  imagine  it  as  a  new  Paradise 
of  Delight,  as  a  wearisome  Arcady  of  beatitude,  as  an  immense 
choir  singing  Hosannahs  with  their  feet  on  the  clouds  and  their 
heads  among  the  stars. 

Christ  describes  the  Kingdom  of  God  as  opposed  to  the  King¬ 
dom  of  Satan,  as  the  antithesis  of  the  Kingdom  of  Earth.  The 
Kingdom  of  Satan  is  the  Kingdom  of  evil,  of  deceit,  of  cruelty, 
of  pride,  the  Kingdom  of  baseness.  Therefore  the  Kingdom  of 
God  means  the  Kingdom  of  good,  of  sincerity,  of  love,  of  humil¬ 
ity,  the  Kingdom  of  the  lofty. 

The  Kingdom  of  Earth  is  the  Kingdom  of  matter  and  of 
flesh,  the  Kingdom  of  gold,  hatred,  avarice,  sensuality,  the 
Kingdom  of  all  things  loved  by  evil  and  distraught  men.  The 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


73 


Kingdom  of  Heaven  is  to  be  the  opposite  of  this:  the  Kingdom 
of  the  spirit  and  of  the  soul,  the  Kingdom  of  renunciation  and 
of  purity;  the  Kingdom  of  all  things  valued  by  men  who  know 
the  worthlessness  of  everything  else  in  comparison.  God  is 
Father  and  Goodness;  Heaven  is  above  the  earth,  hence  it  is 
the  spirit.  Heaven  is  God’s  home.  The  spirit  is  the  dominion 
of  goodness.  All  that  crawls  on  the  earth,  grubs  in  the  earth, 
takes  pleasure  in  matter — that  is  bestiality;  all  that  lives 
with  upraised  eyes,  desiring  Heaven,  wishing  to  live  forever 
in  Heaven — that  is  Holiness.  Most  men  are  beasts.  It  is 
Christ’s  will  that  these  beasts  become  saints.  This  is  the 
simple  and  ever-living  meaning  of  the  Kingdom  of  God,  and 
the  Kingdom  of  Heaven. 

The  Kingdom  of  God  is  of  men  and  for  men.  The  Kingdom 
of  Heaven  is  in  us.  Begin  at  once:  it  is  our  work,  for  our 
happiness  in  this  life  on  this  earth.  It  depends  on  our  will, 
on  our  response  given  or  withheld.  Become  perfect  and  the 
Kingdom  will  extend  even  on  earth.  The  Kingdom  of  God 
will  be  founded  among  men. 

It  is  true  that  Jesus  added  “repent,”  but  the  old  word  has 
II  been  distorted  from  its  true  and  magnificent  meaning.  The 

I ^  word  of  Mark — jjLeravoeite — should  not  be  translated  “re- 
Ipent”;  pisravota  means  rather  the  changing  of  the  mind,  the 
transformation  of  the  soul.  Metamorphosis  is  a  change  of 
form;  “metanoia,”  a  changing  of  the  spirit.  It  ought  rather  to 
Ì  translated  “conversion,”  that  is,  the  renewing  of  the  inner 
life  of  man.  The  idea  of  “repentance”  is  only  an  illustration 
of  Christ’s  command. 

As  one  of  the  conditions  of  the  arrival  of  the  Kingdom  and 
at  the  same  time  as  the  very  substance  of  the  new  order,  Jesus 
demands  complete  conversion,  a  revolution  of  life  and  of  the 
common  ^7alues  of  life,  a  transmutation  of  feelings,  of  opinions, 
|of  intentions.  This  He  called,  speaking  to  Nicodemus,  “the 
[Second  birth.”  Little  by  little  He  was  to  explain  in  what  way 
this  total  transformation  of  the  ordinary  human  soul  is  to  be 
iieffected.  All  His  life  was  devoted  to  this  teaching  and  to  setting 
Jlthe  example.  But  in  the  meantime.  He  contented  Himself 
ijwith  adding  one  conclusion,  “Believe  in  the  Gospel.” 


74 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


By  “Gospel”  men  nowadays  mean  usually  the  book  where 
the  quadruple  story  of  Jesus  is  printed;  but  Jesus  neither  wrote 
books  nor  thought  of  volumes.  By  “Gospel”  He  meant,  accord¬ 
ing  to  the  plain  and  sweet  meaning  of  the  word,  “good  tidings.” 
Jesus  is  a  messenger  (in  Greek  “angel”)  who  brings  good 
tidings:  He  brings  the  cheerful  message  that  the  sick  will  be 
cured,  that  the  blind  will  see,  the  poor  will  be  enriched  with 
imperishable  riches,  that  the  sad  will  rejoice,  that  sinners 
will  be  pardoned,  the  unclean  purified,  that  the  imperfect  can 
become  perfect,  that  animals  can  become  saints,  and  saints  be¬ 
come  angels,  like  unto  God. 

If  this  Kingdom  is  to  come,  if  everybody  is  to  prepare  him¬ 
self  for  its  coming,  we  must  believe  in  the  message,  believe 
that  the  Kingdom  is  possible  and  near.  If  there  is  no  faith  in 
this  promise,  no  one  will  do  what  must  be  done  to  fulfill 
the  promise.  Only  the  certainty  of  the  truth  of  this  good 
tidings,  only  the  conviction  that  the  Kingdom  is  not  the  lie 
of  an  adventurer  or  the  hallucination  of  an  obsessed  zealot; 
only  the  certainty  of  the  sincerity  and  validity  of  the  message 
can  arouse  men  to  put  their  hands  to  the  great  work  of  its 
foundation. 

With  those  few  words,  obscure  to  the  majority  of  men, 
Jesus  began  His  teaching.  The  fullness  of  time,  the  need  to 
begin  at  once!  The  coming  of  the  Kingdom,  victory  of  spirit 
over  matter;  of  good  over  bad,  of  the  saint  over  the  beast. 
“Metanoia” — the  total  transformation  of  the  soul.  The 
Gospel — the  cheerful  assurance  that  all  this  is  true  and  eter¬ 
nally  possible. 

CAPERNAUM 

Jesus  taught  His  Galileans  on  the  threshold  of  their  shabby 
little  white  houses,  on  the  small  shady  open  places  of  their 
cities  or  the  shore  of  the  lake,  leaning  against  a  beached  boat. 
His  feet  on  the  stones,  towards  evening  when  the  sun  sank 
red  in  the  west,  summoning  men  to  rest. 

Many  listened  to  Him  and  followed  Him  because,  says 
Luke:  “His  word  was  with  authority.”  The  words  were  not 
wholly  new,  but  the  man  was  new,  and  new  was  the 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


75 


warmth  of  His  voice,  and  the  good  done  by  that  voice,  overflow¬ 
ing  from  His  heart  and  going  straight  to  the  hearts  of  others. 
The  accent  of  those  words  was  new,  and  new  the  sense  that 
they  took  in  that  mouth,  lighted  by  His  look. 

Here  was  no  prophet  of  the  mountains  shouting  in  waste 
places,  far  from  men,  solitary,  distant,  forcing  others  to  come 
to  him  if  they  wished  to  hear  him.  Here  was  a  prophet  living 
like  a  man  among  other  men,  a  friend  of  all,  friendly  to  the 
unfriended,  an  easy-going  and  companionable  comrade,  search¬ 
ing  out  His  brothers  where  they  work  in  the  houses,  in  the  busy 
streets,  eating  their  bread  and  drinking  wine  at  their  tables, 
lending  a  hand  with  the  fisherman’s  nets,  with  a  good  word  for 
every  man,  for  the  sad,  for  the  sick,  for  the  beggar. 

The  simple-hearted,  like  animals  and  children,  know  in¬ 
stinctively  who  loves  them,  they  believe  him,  are  happy  when 
he  comes  (their  very  faces  suddenly  transfigured)  and  are  sad 
when  he  goes.  Sometimes  they  cannot  bring  themselves  to 
leave  him  and  follow  him  to  the  death. 

Jesus  spent  His  time  with  them  walking  from  one  region  to 
another,  or  talking,  seated  among  His  friends.  Always  dear 
to  Him  was  the  sunny  shore  of  the  lake,  along  the  curve  of 
quiet  clear  water  scarcely  ruffled  by  the  wind  from  the  desert, 
dotted  with  a  few  boats  silently  tacking  back  and  forth.  The 
western  coast  of  the  lake  was  His  real  Kingdom;  there  He 
found  His  first  listeners.  His  first  converts.  His  first  disciples. 

If  He  returned  to  Nazareth,  He  stayed  there  but  a  short 
i  time.  He  was  to  go  back  later,  accompanied  by  the  Twelve 
and  preceded  by  the  renown  of  His  miracles,  and  they  were  to 
treat  Him  as  all  the  cities  of  the  world, — even  the  most  re¬ 
nowned  for  amenity,  Athens  and  Florence,  have  treated  those 
of  their  citizens  who  made  them  great  above  others.  After 
ridiculing  Him  (they  had  seen  Him  as  a  child,  it  is  out  of  the 
i  question  that  He  can  have  become  a  great  prophet)  they  tried 
to  cast  Him  down  from  the  precipice. 

In  no  city  did  He  make  a  long  stay.  Jesus  was  a  wanderer, 
such  a  man  as  is  called  a  vagabond  by  the  pot-bellied  and 
sedentary  citizen  rooted  to  his  threshold.  His  life  is  an  eter¬ 
nal  journey.  Before  that  other  Jew  who  was  condemned  to 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


76 

immortality  by  one  condemned  to  death,  He  is  the  true  Wan¬ 
dering  Jew.  He  was  born  on  a  journey.  Still  a  baby  at  the 
breast,  He  was  carried  along  the  sun-parched  road  to  Egypt; 
from  Egypt  He  came  back  to  the  waters  and  greenness  of 
Galilee.  From  Nazareth  He  often  went  to  Jerusalem  for  the 
Passover.  The  voice  of  John  called  Him  to  the  Jordan:  an 
inner  voice  drove  Him  out  into  the  desert;  and  after  the  forty 
days  of  hunger  and  the  Temptation,  He  began  His  restless 
vagabond  life  from  city  to  city,  from  village  to  village,  from 
mountain  to  mountain,  across  Palestine.  Most  often  we  find 
Him  in  Galilee,  in  Capernaum,  Chorazin,  in  Cana,  in  Magdala, 
in  Tiberias,  but  often  He  crosses  Samaria  to  sit  down  near 
the  well  of  Sychar.  We  find  Him  from  time  to  time  in  the 
Tetrarchy  of  Philip  at  Bethsaida,  at  Gadara,  at  Csesarea,  also 
at  Gerasa  in  the  Perea  of  Herod  Antipas.  In  Judah  He  often 
stops  at  Bethany,  a  few  miles  away  from  Jerusalem,  or  at 
Jericho,  but  He  did  not  shrink  from  journeying  outside  the 
limits  of  the  old  kingdom  and  from  going  down  among  the 
Gentiles.  We  find  Him  in  Phoenicia,  in  the  regions  of  Tyre 
and  Sidon,  and  in  Syria,  if  the  transfiguration  took  place  on 
the  summit  of  Mt.  Hermon.  After  the  resurrection  He  appears 
in  Emmaus,  on  the  banks  of  His  lake  of  Tiberias  and  finally 
at  Bethany  near  Lazarus’  house,  where  He  leaves  His  friends 
forever. 

He  is  the  traveler  without  rest,  the  wanderer  with  no  home, 
the  wayfarer  for  love’s  sake,  the  voluntary  exile  in  His  own 
country;  He  says  Himself  that  He  has  not  a  stone  on  which 
to  lay  His  head,  and  it  is  true  that  He  has  no  bed  where 
He  may  lie  down  at  night,  nor  a  room  that  He  can  call  His 
own.  His  real  home  is  the  road  which  takes  Him  along  with 
His  first  friends  in  search  of  new  friends.  His  bed  is  the 
furrow  in  a  field,  the  bench  of  a  boat,  the  shadow  of  an  olive 
tree.  Sometimes  He  sleeps  in  the  houses  of  those  who  love 
Him,  but  only  for  short  periods. 

In  the  early  days  we  find  Him  most  often  at  Capernaum, 
His  journeys  began  there  and  ended  there.  Matthew  calls  it 
^‘His  city.”  Situated  on  the  caravan  route  which  from  Damas¬ 
cus  crosses  Iturea  and  goes  towards  the  sea,  Capernaum  had 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


77 


become  little  by  little  a  commercial  center  of  some  importance. 
Artisans,  bargainers,  brokers,  and  shopkeepers  had  come  there 
to  stay.  Men  of  finance — as  flies  swarm  on  rotten  pears — 
had  come  there;  publicans,  excise  men  and  other  fiscal  tools. 
The  little  settlement,  half-rustic,  half  a  fishing  village,  had 
become  a  mixed  and  composite  city  where  the  society  of  the 
times — even  to  soldiers  and  prostitutes — was  fully  represented. 
And  yet  Capernaum,  lying  along  the  lake,  freshened  by  the  air 
from  the  near-by  hills  and  by  the  breeze  from  the  water,  was 
not  a  prey  to  stagnation  and  decay  like  the  Syrian  cities  and 
Jerusalem.  There  were  still  peasants  who  went  out  to  their 
fields  every  day,  and  fishermen  who  every  day  went  forth  to 
their  boats.  Good,  poor,  simple,  warm-hearted  people  who 
talked  of  other  matters  than  money  and  gear.  Among  them 
a  man  could  draw  his  breath  freely. 

On  the  Sabbath  Jesus  went  to  the  Synagogue.  Everybody 
had  the  right  to  enter  there,  to  read  aloud  and  also  to  expoimd 
what  had  been  read.  It  was  a  plain  house,  a  bare  room  where 
people  went  with  their  friends  and  brothers  to  reason  together 
and  dream  of  God. 

Jesus  stood  up,  had  some  one  give  Him  one  of  the  scrolls 
of  the  Scriptures  (more  often  the  Prophets  than  the  Law)  and 
recited  in  a  tranquil  voice  two,  three,  four  or  more  verses. 
Then  He  commenced  to  speak  with  a  bold  and  forceful  elo¬ 
quence  which  put  the  Pharisees  to  confusion,  touched  sinners, 
won  the  poor,  and  enchanted  women. 

Suddenly  the  old  text  was  transfigured,  became  transparent, 
belonged  to  their  own  times;  it  seemed  a  new  truth,  a  discovery 
they  had  made,  a  discourse  heard  for  the  first  time;  the  words 
withered  by  antiquity,  dried  up  by  repetition,  took  on  life  and 
color;  a  new  sun  gilded  them  one  by  one,  syllable  by  syllable; 
fresh  words  coined  at  that  moment,  shining  before  their  eyes 
like  an  unexpected  revelation. 

POOR  PEOPLE 

Nobody  in  Capernaum  could  remember  having  heard  such 
a  Rabbi.  The  Sabbaths  when  Jesus  spoke,  the  Synagogue  was 


I 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


78 

full,  the  crowd  overflowed  out  on  the  street,  everybody  was 
there  who  could  come.  The  gardener  comes,  who  for  that  day 
had  left  his  spade,  and  no  longer  turned  his  water  wheel  to 
irrigate  the  green  rows  of  his  garden,  and  the  smith,  the  good 
country  smith,  black  with  smoke  and  dust  every  day,  but  on 
the  Sabbath  washed,  neatly  dressed,  his  face  still  a  little  dusky, 
although  scrubbed  and  rinsed  in  many  waters  like  his  hands, 
with  his  beard  combed  and  anointed  with  cheap  ointment  (but 
still  perfumed  like  a  rich  man’s  beard),  the  smith  all  whose 
days  are  spent  before  the  fire,  sweaty  and  dirty  except  this 
day  which  is  the  Sabbath,  when  he  comes  to  the  Synagogue 
to  hear  the  ancient  word  of  the  Ancient  of  Days,  the  God  of 
his  fathers.  He  comes  devoutly,  but  he  comes  too  because  his 
family,  his  friends,  his  neighbors  come  there,  and  he  finds 
them  all  together,  and  he  comes  also  because  the  day  is  long 
(all  that  long  holiday  without  any  work,  without  any  hammer 
in  his  hand,  without  the  pincers)  and  in  Capernaum  there  is 
nothing  to  do  on  Sabbaths  except  go  to  the  Synagogue.  The 
mason  comes,  he  who  has  worked  on  this  little  house  of  the 
Synagogue  and  made  it  small  because  the  Elders — good.  God¬ 
fearing  people,  but  inclined  to  be  stingy — did  not  wish  to  spend 
too  much.  The  mason  still  feels  his  arms  a  little  numb  and 
lame  from  his  six  days’  labor,  no  longer  keeps  track  of  the 
stones  which  he  has  laid  in  courses  and  the  trowels  full  of  mor¬ 
tar  which  he  has  thrown  between  the  stones  during  the  week. 
The  mason  puts  on  his  new  clothes  to-day  and  sits  down  on 
the  ground,  he  who  on  all  other  days  stands  upright,  active, 
watchful  so  that  the  work  may  go  well,  and  the  employer  be 
satisfied;  the  good  mason  too  has  come  to  the  house  which 
seems  to  him  partly  his  own. 

The  fishermen  have  come  too,  the  young  and  the  old,  both 
of  them  with  faces  tanned  by  the  sun  and  with  eyes  half-shut 
from  the  constant  glare  of  sunlight  reflected  by  the  water. 
(The  old  man  is  handsomer  because  of  the  contrast  of  his  white 
hair  and  white  beard  with  his  weather-beaten  and  wrinkled 
face.)  The  fishermen  have  turned  over  their  boats  on  the 
sand,  have  left  them  tied  to  a  stake,  have  spread  the  nets  on 
the  roof  and  have  come  to  the  Synagogue,  although  they  are 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


79 

not  used  to  being  within  walls  and  perhaps  continue  to  hear  a 
confused  murmur  of  water  lapping  about  the  bow. 

The  peasants  of  the  neighboring  countryside  are  here  too, 
prosperous  farmers  who  have  put  on  a  tunic  as  good  as  any¬ 
body’s,  who  are  satisfied  with  the  harvest  almost  ready  for 
the  scythe.  They  do  not  mean  to  forget  God  who  brings 
the  grain  to  a  head  and  makes  the  grape-vine  to  blossom. 
There  are  shepherds  come  in  to  town  that  morning,  shepherds 
and  goat-herds  with  the  smell  of  their  flocks  still  on  them, 
shepherds  who  live  all  the  week  in  the  mountain-pastures  with¬ 
out  seeing  a  soul,  without  exchanging  a  word,  alone  with  their 
quiet  animals  peacefully  grazing  on  the  new  grass. 

The  smaller  property  owners,  the  small  business  men,  the 
gentry  of  Capernaum,  all  have  come.  They  are  men  of  weight 
and  piety.  They  stand  in  the  front  row,  serious,  their  eyes 
cast  down,  satisfied  with  the  business  of  the  last  few  days 
I  and  satisfied  with  their  conscience  because  they  have  observed 
'  the  law  without  failing  and  are  not  contaminated.  The  line 
'  of  their  well-clad  backs  can  be  seen,  bowed  backs  but  broad 
and  masterful,  employers’  backs,  backs  of  people  in  harmony 
!  with  the  world,  and  with  God,  backs  full  of  authority  and 
1  of  religion.  There  are  also  transient  foreigners,  merchants 
going  towards  Syria  or  returning  to  Tiberias.  They  have  come 
from  condescension  or  from  habit,  perhaps  to  try  to  pick  up 
a  customer,  and  they  stare  into  everybody’s  face  with  the 
'  arrogance  which  money  gives  to  poverty-stricken  souls. 

At  the  back  of  the  room  (for  the  Synagogue  is  only  a  long 
I  white-washed  room  a  little  larger  than  a  school,  than  an  inn, 
(I  than  a  kitchen)  the  poor  of  the  countryside  are  huddled  to- 
:  gether  like  dogs  near  a  door,  like  those  who  always  stand  in 
I  fear  of  being  sent  away.  The  poorest  of  all,  those  who  live 
'  by  odd  jobs,  by  ungracious  charity  and  also — oh,  poverty! — 
V  by  some  discreet  theft,  the  ragged,  the  vermin-ridden,  the 
I  timid,  the  wretched;  old  widows  whose  children  are  far  away, 
•  young  orphans  not  yet  able  to  earn  a  living,  hump-backed  old 
:  men  with  no  acquaintances,  strengthless  invalids,  those  who  are 
:  incurably  sick,  those  whose  wits  no  longer  rightly  serve  them, 
who  have  no  understanding,  who  cannot  work.  The  weak  in 


I 

à 


( 


8o 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


mind,  the  weak  in  body,  the  bankrupt,  the  rejected,  the  aban¬ 
doned,  those  who  one  day  eat  and  the  next  day  do  not,  who 
never  have  enough  to  satisfy  their  hunger,  those  who  pick 
up  what  others  throw  away,  the  pieces  of  dry  bread,  fish- 
heads,  fruit-cores  and  skins;  and  sleep  now  here  and  now 
there,  and  suffer  from  the  winter  cold  and  every  year  wait 
for  summer,  paradise  of  the  poor,  for  then  there  are  fruits 
to  be  plucked  along  the  roads.  They  too,  the  beggars,  the 
wretched,  the  ragamuffins,  the  sickly  and  the  weaklings,  when 
the  Sabbath  comes,  go  to  the  Synagogue  to  hear  the  stories 
of  the  Bible.  They  cannot  be  sent  away:  they  have  as  much 
right  to  be  there  as  any  one,  they  are  sons  of  the  same  Father 
and  servants  of  the  same  Lord.  On  that  day  they  feel  a 
little  comforted  in  their  poverty  because  they  can  hear  the 
same  words  heard  by  the  rich  and  the  strong.  Here  they  are 
not  served  with  another  sort  of  food,  poorer  and  coarser,  as 
happens  in  the  houses  where  the  owner  eats  the  best  and  the 
beggar  on  the  threshold  must  content  himself  with  scraps. 
Here  the  fare  is  the  same  for  the  man  of  possessions  and  him 
who  has  nothing.  The  words  of  Moses  are  the  same,  everlast¬ 
ingly  the  same  for  him  who  owns  the  fattest  flock  and  for 
him  who  has  not  even  a  quarter  of  lamb  on  Passover  day.  But 
the  words  of  the  Prophets  are  sweeter  to  them  than  those  of 
Moses,  harder  on  the  great  of  the  world,  but  kinder  for  the 
humble.  The  poverty-stricken  throng  at  the  back  of  the  Syna¬ 
gogue  waits  every  Sabbath  for  somebody  to  read  a  chapter 
from  Amos  or  from  Isaiah  because  the  Prophets  take  the  part 
of  the  poor,  and  announce  the  punishment  and  the  new  world. 
“And  he  who  was  clothed  with  purple  shall  be  made  to  handle 
dung.’’ 

And  behold  on  that  Sabbath  there  was  One  who  came  ex¬ 
pressly  for  them,  who  talked  for  them,  who  had  come  back 
from  the  desert  to  announce  good  tidings  for  the  poor  and 
the  sick.  No  one  had  ever  spoken  of  them  as  He  did,  no 
one  had  shown  so  much  love  for  them.  Like  the  old  prophets. 
He  had  for  them  a  special  affection  which  offended  more 
fortunate  men,  but  which  filled  their  hearts  with  comfort  and 
hope. 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


8i 


When  Jesus  had  finished  speaking  they  observed  that  the 
elders,  the  bourgeois,  the  masters,  lords,  Pharisees,  men  who 
knew  how  to  read  and  make  money,  shook  their  heads  fore¬ 
bodingly,  and  got  up,  making  wry  faces  and  nodding  among 
themselves,  half  contemptuous,  half  scandalized;  and  as  soon 
as  they  were  outside,  muttered  a  grumbling  of  prudent  disap¬ 
probation  through  their  great  black  and  silver  beards.  But  no 
one  laughed. 

The  merchants  followed  them,  erect,  already  thinking  of  the 
next  day;  there  remained  behind  the  working  men,  the  poor, 
the  shepherds,  the  peasants,  the  gardeners,  the  smiths,  the  fish¬ 
ermen,  and  all  the  herd  of  beggars,  orphans  without  inherit¬ 
ance,  old  men  without  health,  homeless  outcasts,  friendless  un¬ 
fortunates,  penniless  men,  the  diseased,  the  maimed,  the  worn- 
out,  the  rejected.  They  could  not  take  their  eyes  from  Jesus, 
they  would  have  liked  Him  to  go  on  speaking,  to  reveal  the 
day  of  the  New  Kingdom  when  they  too  would  have  their  re¬ 
turn  for  all  this  misery,  and  see  with  their  own  eyes  the 
day  of  reckoning.  The  words  of  Jesus  had  made  their  bruised 
and  weary  hearts  beat  faster.  A  gleam  of  light,  a  glimpse  of 
the  sky  and  of  glory,  the  hallucination  of  prosperity,  of  ban¬ 
quets,  of  repose  and  abundance,  sprang  up  from  those  great 
words  in  the  rich  souls  of  the  poor.  Perhaps  they  scarcely 
understood  what  the  Master  meant  to  say,  and  perhaps  the 
Kingdom  glimpsed  by  them  had  some  resemblance  to  a  ma¬ 
terialistic  Land  of  Cockaigne.  But  no  one  loved  Flim  as  they 
did.  No  one  will  ever  love  Him  like  the  poor  of  Galilee, 
hungering  after  peace  and  truth.  Even  those  who  were  less 
destitute,  the  day-laborers,  the  fishermen,  the  working  men, 
though  less  hungry  for  bread,  loved  Him  for  the  love  of  those 
poor. 

And  when  He  came  out  from  the  Synagogue  all  those  stood 
waiting  in  the  street  to  see  Him  again.  They  followed  Him 
timidly  as  if  in  a  dream;  when  He  entered  into  the  house  of 
a  friend  to  eat  they  were  almost  jealous  and  some  waited  out¬ 
side  the  door  until  He  reappeared;  then,  grown  more  bold,  they 
accosted  Him  and  went  along  together  beside  the  shores  of  the 
lake.  Others  joined  them  on  the  way,  and  now  one  and  now 


82 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


another  (they  were  braver  under  the  open  sky  and  outside 
the  Synagogue)  began  asking  questions.  And  Jesus  paused 
and  answered  this  obscure  crowd  with  words  never  to  be  for¬ 
gotten. 

THE  FIRST  FOUR 

Among  the  fishermen  of  Capernaum,  Jesus  found  His  first 
disciples.  Almost  every  day  He  was  on  the  beach  of  the 
lake;  sometimes  the  boats  were  going  out,  sometimes  they  were 
coming  in,  the  sails  swelling  in  the  breeze;  and  from  the  barks 
the  barefooted  men  climbed  down,  wading  knee-deep  in  water, 
carrying  the  baskets  filled  with  the  wet  silver  of  dead  fish 
piled  together,  good  and  bad,  and  with  the  old  dripping  nets. 

They  put  out  sometimes  at  nightfall  when  there  was  a  moon, 
and  came  back  early  in  the  morning  just  after  the  setting  of 
the  moon  and  before  sunrise.  Often  Jesus  was  waiting  for 
them  on  the  strand  and  was  the  first  to  greet  them.  But  the 
fishing  was  not  always  good,  sometimes  they  came  back  empty- 
handed,  tired  and  depressed.  Jesus  greeted  them  with  words 
which  cheered  them,  and  the  disappointed  men,  although  they 
had  not  slept,  listened  to  Him  willingly.  One  morning  two 
boats  came  back  towards  Capernaum  while  Jesus  standing  by 
the  lake  was  talking  to  the  people  who  had  gathered  around 
Him.  The  fishermen  disembarked  and  began  to  arrange  the 
nets;  then  Jesus  entered  into  one  of  the  boats  and  asked  them 
to  put  it  out  a  little  from  the  land  so  that  He  might  not  be 
pressed  upon  by  the  crowd.  Upright  near  the  rudder  He 
taught  those  who  had  remained  on  the  land,  and  when  He 
had  left  speaking  He  said  to  Simon,  “Launch  out  into  the  deep, 
and  let  down  your  nets  for  a  draught.” 

And  Simon,  son  of  Jona,  owner  of  the  boat,  answered,  “Mas¬ 
ter,  we  have  toiled  all  the  night  and  have  taken  nothing, 
nevertheless  at  thy  word,  I  will  let  down  the  net,” 

When  they  were  only  a  short  distance  from  the  bank,  Simon 
and  Andrew,  his  brother,  threw  out  into  the  water  a  large  net. 
And  when  they  drew  it  back  it  was  so  full  of  fish  that  the 
meshes  were  almost  breaking.  Then  the  two  brothers  called 
their  partners  in  the  other  boat,  that  they  should  come  to  help 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


83 


them,  and  they  threw  out  the,  net  again  and  drew  it  up  again 
full.  Simon,  Andrew  and  the  others  cried  out  “a  miracle!” 
and  thanked  Jesus,  who  had  brought  them  this  good  luck. 
Simon,  impulsive  by  nature,  threw  himself  at  the  knees  of 
their  guest  crying,  ^^Depart  from  me;  for  I  am  a  sinful  man, 
O  Lord.” 

But  Jesus,  smiling,  said,  ‘Tollow  me,  and  I  will  make  you 
fishers  of  men.” 

When  they  went  back  to  the  shore  they  pulled  the  boat 
up  on  the  land,  and  leaving  their  nets,  the  two  brothers  fol¬ 
lowed  Him.  And  a  few  days  after  this,  Jesus  saw  the  other 
two  brothers,  James  and  John,  sons  of  Zebedee,  who  were 
partners  of  Simon  and  Andrew,  and  he  called  them,  while  they 
were  mending  the  broken  nets;  and  they  too  said  farewell  to 
their  father,  who  was  in  the  boat  with  the  sailors,  and  leaving 
the  broken  nets  half-mended,  followed  Him.  Jesus  was  no 
longer  alone:  four  men,  two  pairs  of  brothers  more  deeply 
brothers  in  this  common  faith,  v/ere  ready  to  accompany  Him 
wherever  He  wished  to  go,  to  break  bread  with  Him,  to  repeat 
His  words,  to  obey  Him  as  a  father,  and  more  than  a  father. 
Four  poor  fishermen,  four  plain  men  of  the  lake,  men  who  did 
not  know  how  to  read,  nor  indeed  how  to  speak  correctly,  four 
humble  men  whom  no  one  else  would  have  been  able  to  dis¬ 
tinguish  from  others,  were  called  by  Jesus  to  found  with  Him 
a  kingdom  which  was  to  occupy  all  the  earth.  For  Him  they 
left  their  faithful  boats  which  they  had  put  out  into  the  water 
so  many  times,  and  so  many  times  tied  up  to  the  wharf; 
they  left  the  old  fish  nets  which  had  drawn  from  the  water 
thousands  of  fish;  they  left  their  father,  their  family,  their 
home.  They  left  all  that  to  follow  this  man  who  did  not 
promise  money  or  lands  and  spoke  only  of  love,  of  poverty 
and  perfection.  Thus  if  their  spirit  always  remained  too  low 
to  understand  their  master,  always  a  little  rustic  and  common, 
and  if  sometimes  they  doubted  and  were  uncertain  and  did 
not  understand  His  truths  and  His  parables,  and  at  the  end 
abandoned  Him,  all  will  be  pardoned  to  them  for  the  candid, 
unquestioning  promptness  with  which  they  followed  Him  at 
the  first  call. 


/ 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


Who  among  us  to-day,  among  all  those  now  living,  would 
be  capable  of  imitating  those  four  poor  men  of  Capernaum? 
If  a  prophet  should  come  and  say  to  the  merchant,  ‘Tea ve 
your  bank  and  your  counter”;  and  to  the  Professor,  “Come 
down  from  your  chair  and  throw  away  your  books”;  and  to 
the  statesman,  “Give  up  your  portfolios  and  your  lies  which 
are  only  nets  for  catching  men”;  and  to  the  working  man, 
“Put  away  your  tools  for  I  will  give  you  other  work”;  and  to 
the  farmer,  “Stop  in  the  middle  of  the  furrow  and  leave  your 
plow  among  the  clods,  for  I  promise  you  a  more  wonderful 
harvest”;  and  to  the  factory  hand,  “Stop  your  machine  and 
come  with  me,  for  spirit  is  more  precious  than  metal”;  and  to 
the  rich,  “Give  away  all  your  goods,  for  you  will  acquire  with 
me  an  inestimable  treasure”;  ...  if  a  prophet  should  speak 
thus  to  us,  men  of  the  present  day,  how  many  would  follow 
him  with  the  simple-hearted  spontaneity  of  those  fishermen  of 
old?  But  Jesus  made  no  sign  to  the  merchants  who  stood 
trafficking  in  the  open  places,  and  in  the  shops,  nor  to  those 
who  observed  the  tiniest  commands  of  the  law  and  could  re¬ 
cite  by  heart  verses  from  the  Bible,  nor  to  the  farmers  rooted 
to  their  land  and  their  live-stock,  and  certainly  not  to  the 
affluent,  surfeited,  satisfied,  who  care  nothing  about  any  other 
kingdoms  because  their  kingdom  has  long  since  been  realized. 

Not  by  chance  did  Jesus  select  His  first  companions  from 
among  fishermen.  The  fisherman  who  lives  a  great  part  of 
his  days  in  the  pure  solitude  of  the  water  is  the  man  who 
knows  how  to  wait.  He  is  the  patient,  unhurried  man  who 
lets  down  his  nets  and  leaves  the  rest  to  God.  The  water 
has  its  caprices,  the  lake  its  fantasies,  no  day  is  like  another 
day;  he  does  not  know  when  he  goes  away  if  he  will  come 
back  with  his  boat  full  or  without  a  single  fish  to  cook  for 
his  dinner.  He  commends  himself  into  the  hands  of  God, 
who  sends  abundance  and  famine.  He  consoles  himself  for 
bad  days  by  thinking  of  the  good  days  which  have  been  and 
which  will  come.  He  does  not  desire  sudden  riches,  and  is 
glad  if  he  can  exchange  the  results  of  his  fishing  for  a  little 
bread  and  wine.  He  is  pure  in  soul  and  body.  He  washes  his 
hands  in  water  and  his  spirit  in  solitude. 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


85 


Of  these  fishermen  who  would  have  died  in  the  obscurity 
of  Capernaum  without  any  one  except  their  neighbors  being 
aware  of  them,  Jesus  made  saints  whom  men  even  to-day  re¬ 
member  and  invoke.  A  great  man  creates  great  men;  from 
a  somnolent  people  he  raises  up  prophets;  from  a  debilitated 
people,  warriors;  from  an  ignorant  race,  teachers.  In  any 
weather  fires  are  lighted  if  there  is  a  hand  capable  of  kindling 
them.  When  David  appears  he  finds  at  once  his  gibborim; 
an  Agamemnon  finds  his  heroes,  an  Arthur  his  knights, 
Charlemagne  his  paladins,  Napoleon  his  Marshals.  Jesus 
found  among  the  men  of  the  people  of  Galilee,  His  apostles. 

Jesus  did  not  seek  armed  warriors,  men  who  would  lay  their 
enemies  low,  conquerors  of  provinces.  His  apostles  were  to 
fight,  but  the  good  fight  of  perfection  against  corruption,  holi¬ 
ness  against  sin,  health  against  sickness,  spirit  against  matter, 
the  happy  future  against  the  past,  henceforth  sterile.  They 
were  to  aid  Him  in  bringing  His  joyous  message  to  the  heavy- 
hearted.  They  were  to  speak  in  His  name  in  places  where 
He  could  not  go,  and  in  His  name  to  carry  on  His  work  after 
His  death. 

THE  MOUNT 

The  Sermon  on  the  Mount  is  the  greatest  proof  of  the  right 
of  men  to  exist  in  the  infinite  universe.  It  is  our  sufficient 
justification,  the  patent  of  our  soul’s  worthiness,  the  pledge 
that  we  can  lift  ourselves  above  ourselves  to  be  more  than 
men,  the  promise  of  that  supreme  possibility,  the  hope  of  our 
rising  above  the  beast. 

If  an  angel  come  down  to  us  from  the  world  above  should 
ask  us  what  our  most  precious  possession  is,  the  master-work 
of  the  Spirit  at  the  height  of  its  power,  we  would  not  show 
him  the  great  wonderful  oiled  machines  of  which  v/e  fool¬ 
ishly  boast,  although  they  are  but  matter  in  the  service  of 
material  and  superfluous  needs;  but  we  would  offer  him  the 
Sermon  on  the  Mount,  and  afterwards,  only  afterwards,  a 
few  hundred  pages  taken  from  the  poets  of  all  the  peoples. 
But  the  Sermon  would  be  always  the  one  refulgent  diamond 


86 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


dimming  with  the  clear  splendor  of  its  pure  light  the  colored 
poverty  of  emeralds  and  sapphires. 

And  if  men  were  called  before  a  superhuman  tribunal  and 
had  to  give  an  account  to  the  judges  of  ail  the  inexplicable 
mistakes  and  of  the  ancient  infamies  every  day  renewed,  and 
of  the  massacres  which  last  for  a  thousand  years,  and  of  all 
the  bloodshed  between  brothers,  and  of  all  the  tears  shed  by 
the  children  of  men,  and  of  our  hardness  of  heart  and  of  our 
perfidy  only  equaled  perhaps  by  our  stupidity;  we  should  not 
bring  before  this  tribunal  the  reasonings  of  the  philosophers, 
however  learned  and  fine-spun;  not  the  sciences,  ephemeral 
systems  of  symbols  and  recipes;  nor  our  laws,  short-sighted 
compromises  between  ferocity  and  fear.  The  only  thing  we 
should  have  to  show  as  restitution  for  so  much  evil,  as  atone¬ 
ment  for  our  stubborn  tardiness  in  paying  our  debts,  as  apology 
for  sixty  centuries  of  hideous  history,  as  the  one  and  supreme 
attenuation  of  all  those  accusations,  is  the  Sermon  on 
the  Mount.  Who  has  read  it,  even  once,  and  has  not  felt  at 
least  in  that  brief  moment  while  he  read,  a  thrill  of  grateful 
tenderness,  and  an  ache  in  his  throat,  a  passion  of  love  and 
remorse,  a  confused  but  urgent  longing  to  act — so  that  those 
words  shall  not  be  words  alone,  nor  this  sermon  mere  sounds 
and  signs,  but  so  that  they  shall  be  imminent  hope,  life,  alive 
in  all  those  who  live,  present  truth  for  always  and  for  every 
one?  He  who  has  read  it,  if  only  once,  and  has  not  felt  all 
this,  he  deserves  our  love  beyond  all  other  men,  because 
all  the  love  of  men  can  never  make  up  to  him  for  what  he 
has  lost. 

The  Mount  on  which  Jesus  sat  the  day  of  the  sermon  was 
certainly  not  so  high  as  that  from  which  Satan  had  shown 
Him  the  Kingdoms  of  the  earth.  From  it  you  could  see  only 
the  plain,  calm  under  the  loving  sunset  light;  on  one  side 
the  silver-green  oval  of  the  lake,  and  on  the  other  the  long 
crest  of  Carmel  where  Elijah  overcame  the  scullions  of  Baal. 
But  from  this  humble  mount  which  only  the  hyperbole  of 
the  chroniclers  called  mountain,  from  this  little  rocky  hill 
scarcely  rising  above  the  level  earth,  Jesus  disclosed  that 
Kingdom  which  has  no  confines  or  boundaries,  and  wrote  not 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST  87 

on  tablets  of  stone  like  Jehovah,  but  on  flesh-and-blood  hearts, 
the  song  of  the  new  man,  the  hymn  of  glorification. 

^^How  beautiful  upon  the  mountains  are  the  feet  of  him  that 
bringeth  good  tidings,  that  publisheth  peace!”  Isaiah  was 
never  more  a  prophet  than  at  the  moment  when  these  words 
poured  from  his  soul. 

BLESSED  ARE  THE  POOR 

Jesus  sat  on  a  little  hill  in  the  midst  of  the  first  apostles 
surrounded  by  hundreds  of  eyes  that  were  watching  His  eyes; 
and  some  one  asked  Him  to  whom  would  be  allotted  this 
Kingdom  of  Heaven,  of  which  He  so  often  spoke.  Jesus 
answered  with  the  nine  beatitudes. 

The  beatitudes,  so  often  spelled  out  even  nowadays  by 
people  who  have  lost  their  meaning,  are  almost  always  mis¬ 
understood,  mutilated,  deformed,  cheapened,  distorted.  And 
yet  they  epitomize  the  first  day  of  Christ’s  teaching,  that 
glorious  day! 

“Blessed  are  the  poor  in  spirit:  for  theirs  is  the  kingdom 
of  heaven.”  Luke  leaves  out  the  words  “in  spirit,”  seeming 
to  mean  the  “poor”  and  nothing  else;  and  many  people  after 
him  (some  modern  and  malicious)  have  understood  him  to 
mean  the  simple-minded,  the  silly.  They  see  in  the  words 
only  a  choice  between  the  bankrupt  and  the  imbecile. 

When  He  spoke,  Jesus  was  not  thinking  either  of  the  first 
or  the  second.  Jesus  had  no  friendship  for  the  rich  and  de¬ 
tested  with  all  His  soul  the  greedy  desire  for  riches,  the  greatest 
obstacle  to  the  true  enrichment  of  the  soul;  Jesus  was  friendly 
to  the  poor  and  comforted  them  because  they  had  less  com¬ 
fort  than  other  people;  He  kept  them  near  Him  because  of 
their  greater  need  to  be  fed  by  loving  words.  But  He  was  not 
so  foolish  as  to  think  that  to  be  poor,  materially  poor  in  the 
worldly  sense  of  the  word,  is  a  sufficient  title  to  enjoy  the 
Kingdom,  without  any  other  qualifications. 

Jesus  never  gave  any  sign  of  admiring  that  intelligence 
which  is  solely  the  intelligence  of  abstraction  and  the  memory 
for  phrases.  Purely  systematic  philosophers,  and  metaphysi- 


88 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


cal  sophists,  gropers  in  nature,  devourers  of  books,  would 
never  have  found  grace  in  His  eyes.  But  intelligence,  the 
pov/er  of  understanding  the  signs  of  the  future  and  the  mean¬ 
ing  of  symbols — enlightened  and  prophetic  intelligence,  the 
loving  mastery  of  the  truth — was  a  gift  in  His  eyes  also,  and 
many  times  He  grieved  that  His  listeners  and  His  disciples 
showed  so  little  of  it.  For  Him  supreme  intelligence  consisted 
in  realizing  that  the  intelligence  alone  is  not  enough,  that  all 
the  soul  must  be  changed  to  obtain  happiness,  since  happiness 
is  not  an  absurd  dream  but  eternally  possible  and  within  reach. 
But  he  fully  understood  that  intelligence  ought  to  aid  us  in  this 
total  transmutation.  He  could  not  therefore  call  to  the  full¬ 
ness  of  the  Kingdom  of  God  the  dull  and  the  imbecile.  Poor  in 
spirit  are  those  who  are  fully  and  painfully  aware  of  their  own 
spiritual  poverty,  of  the  faultiness  of  their  own  souls,  of  the 
smallness  of  the  good  that  is  in  us  all,  of  the  moral  indigence 
of  most  men.  Only  the  poor  who  realize  that  they  are 
really  poor  suffer  from  their  poverty,  and  because  they  suffer 
from  it  try  to  escape  from  it.  Very  different  these  from  men 
apparently  rich,  from  those  blind  arrogant  self-satisfied  people 
who  believe  themselves  fulfilled  and  perfected,  in  good  stand¬ 
ing  with  God  and  man,  who  feel  no  eagerness  to  climb  upward 
because  they  delude  themselves  with  thinking  they  are  already 
on  high,  who  will  never  enrich  themselves  because  they  do 
not  realize  their  own  fathomless  poverty. 

Those  therefore  who  confess  themselves  poor  and  undergo 
suffering  to  acquire  that  veritable  wealth  named  perfection,  will 
become  holy  as  God  is  holy,  and  theirs  shall  be  the  Kingdom 
of  Heaven;  those  complacent  people  on  the  other  hand  who 
drape  themselves  in  seif-satisfaction,  taking  no  heed  of  the 
foulness  accumulated  and  hidden  under  their  vainglory,  will 
not  enter  into  the  Kingdom. 

BLESSED  ARE  THE  MEEK!  FOR  THEY  SHALL  INHERIT  THE  EARTH 

The  earth  here  promised  is  not  the  literal  field  of  clods, 
nor  monarchies  with  built-up  cities.  In  the  language  of  the 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


89 


Messiah,  ‘‘to  inherit  the  earth”  means  to  partake  of  the  New 
Kingdom.  The  soldier  who  fights  for  the  earthly  earth  needs 
to  be  fierce;  but  he  who  fights  within  himself  for  the  conquest 
of  the  new  earth  and  the  new  heaven  must  not  abandon  him¬ 
self  to  anger,  the  counselor  of  evil,  nor  to  cruelty,  the  negation 
of  love.  The  meek  are  those  who  endure  close  contact  with 
evil  men  and  with  themselves — often  harder  to  bear — who 
do  not  break  out  into  brutish  rage  when  things  go  badly, 
but  conquer  their  inner  enemies  with  that  quiet  perseverance 
which  more  than  sudden  sterile  furies  shows  the  force  of  the 
soul.  They  are  like  water  which  is  not  hard  to  the  touch, 
which  seems  to  give  way  before  other  substances,  but  slowly 
rises,  silently  attacks,  and  calmly  consumes,  with  the  patience 
of  the  years,  the  hardest  granites. 

BLESSED  ARE  THEY  THAT  MOURN 

Blessed  are  they  that  mourn,  for  they  shall  be  comforted. 
The  afflicted,  the  weeping,  those  who  feel  disgust  for  themselves 
and  pity  for  the  world,  who  do  not  live  in  the  supine  stupidity 
of  everyday  life,  who  mourn  over  their  own  unhappiness  and 
that  of  their  brothers,  who  grieve  over  failures,  over  the  blind¬ 
ness  which  delays  the  victory  of  light — because  light  for  men 
cannot  come  from  the  sky  if  their  own  eyes  do  not  reflect  it 
— who  grieve  over  the  remoteness  of  that  righteousness 
dreamed-of  again  and  again,  promised  a  thousand  times,  and 
yet  always  further  away  through  our  fault  and  every  one’s 
fault;  those  who  mourn  over  an  offense  received  instead  of  in¬ 
creasing  the  wrong  by  revenge,  and  who  weep  over  the  wrong 
they  have  done  and  over  the  good  they  might  have  done  and 
did  not;  those  who  care  little  about  the  loss  of  a  visible  treas¬ 
ure  but  strain  after  the  invisible  treasure;  those  who  mourn, 
hasten  with  their  tears  the  day  of  grace,  and  it  is  right  that 
they  shall  some  day  be  comforted. 


vi,  : 


90 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


BLESSED  ARE  THEY  THAT  HUNGER  AND  THIRST  AFTER 

justice:  for  they  shall  be  filled 

The  justice  which  Jesus  means  is  not  the  justice  of  men, 
obedience  to  human  law,  conformity  to  codes,  respect  for 
usage  and  for  the  established  transactions  of  men.  In  the 
language  of  the  psalmists,  the  prophets,  the  saints,  the  just 
man  is  he  who  lives  according  to  the  will  of  God,  because  God 
is  the  supreme  type  of  all  perfection.  Not  according  to  the  law 
written  by  the  Scribes  set  down  in  the  Bible,  diluted  by  Tal¬ 
mudic  casuistries,  obscured  by  the  subtleties  of  the  Pharisees; 
but  according  to  the  one  simple  Law  which  Jesus  reduces  to 
one  commandment,  ^Tove  all  men  near  and  far,  your  fellow 
countrymen  and  foreigners,  strangers  and  enemies.”  Those* 
who  hunger  and  thirst  after  this  justice  shall  be  filled  in  the 
Kingdom  of  Heaven.  Even  if  they  do  not  succeed  in  being 
perfect  in  all  things,  much  will  be  pardoned  for  their  endurance 
of  the  long  vigil. 

BLESSED  ARE  THE  MERCIFUL:  FOR  THEY  SHALL  OBTAIN  MERCY 

He  who  loves  shall  be  loved,  he  who  gives  help  shall  find 
help.  The  law  of  retaliation  is  nullified  for  evil  but  remains 
valid  for  good.  We  constantly  commit  sins  against  the  spirit 
and  those  sins  will  be  forgiven  us  only  as  we  forgive  those 
committed  against  us.  Christ  is  in  all  men  and  what  we  do 
to  others  will  be  done  to  us.  ^‘Inasmuch  as  ye  have  done  it 
unto  one  of  the  least  of  these  my  brethren,  ye  have  done  it 
unto  me.”  If  we  have  pity  on  others  we  may  have  pity  for 
ourselves;  God  can  pardon  the  evil  which  we  do  to  ourselves 
only’  if  we  pardon  the  evil  which  others  do  to  us. 

BLESSED  ARE  THE  PURE  IN  HEART!  FOR  THEY  SHALL  SEE  GOD 

The  Pure  of  Heart  are  those  who  have  no  other  wish  than 
for  perfection,  no  other  joy  than  victory  over  the  evil  which 
hunts  us  dov/n  on  every  side.  He  who  has  his  heart  crammed 
with  furious  desires,  with  earthly  ambitions,  with  carnal  pride 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


91 


“IT 

f 


and  with  all  the  lusts  which  convulse  this  ant-heap  of  the  earth, 
can  never  see  God  face  to  face,  will  never  know  the  sweetness 
of  His  magnificent  felicity. 

BLESSED  ARE  THE  PEACEMAKERS!  FOR  THEY  SHALL  BE  CALLED 

THE  SONS  OF  GOD 

These  peacemakers  are  not  the  meek  of  the  second  beati¬ 
tude.  The  meek  refrain  from  answering  evil  with  evil;  the 
peacemakers  do  more,  they  return  good  for  evil,  they  bring 
peace  where  wars  are  flaring  up.  When  Jesus  said  He  had 
come  to  bring  war  and  not  peace.  He  meant  war  to  evil,  to 
Satan,  to  the  world,  to  evil  which  is  wrong,  to  Satan  who  is 
Death,  to  the  world  which  is  an  eternal  battle.  He  means, 
in  short,  war  against  war.  The  peacemakers  are  those  who 
wage  war  upon  war,  those  who  placate,  those  who  bring  about 
concord.  The  origin  of  every  war  is  self-love,  love  which 
becomes  love  of  riches,  pride  of  possession,  envy  of  those  more 
;  wealthy,  hatred  for  rivals;  and  the  new  law  comes  to  teach 
'  hatred  for  oneself,  contempt  for  measurable  goods,  love  for  all 
creatures,  even  for  those  who  hate  us.  The  peacemakers  who 
teach  and  practice  this  love  cut  at  the  root  of  all  war.  When 
every  man  loves  his  brothers  more  than  himself  there  will 
be  no  more  wars,  neither  great  nor  small,  neither  civil  nor  im¬ 
perial,  neither  of  words  nor  of  blows,  between  man  and  man, 
between  class  and  class,  between  people  and  people.  The 
peacemakers  will  have  conquered  the  earth  and  they  will  be 
called  the  true  sons  of  God,  and  they  will  enter  among  the 
first  into  His  Kingdom. 

;i  BLESSED  ARE  THEY  WHO  HAVE  BEEN  PERSECUTED  FOR  JUSTICE’ 
sake:  FOR  THEIRS  IS  THE  KINGDOM  OF  HEAVEN 

I  send  you  out  to  found  this  Kingdom,  the  Kingdom  of 
!  Heaven,  of  that  higher  justice  which  is  love,  of  that  fatherly 
!  goodness  whose  name  is  God;  I  send  you  out  therefore  to  fight 
,1  against  those  who  uphold  injustice,  the  servants  of  materialism, 
il  the  proselytes  of  the  Adversary.  They  will  defend  themselves 


92 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


when  attacked,  and  to  defend  themselves  they  will  attack  you. 
You  will  be  tortured  in  body,  crucified  in  soul,  deprived  of 
liberty  and  perhaps  of  life;  but  if  you  accept  this  suffering 
cheerfully  to  carry  to  others  that  justice  which  makes  you 
suffer,  this  persecution  will  be  for  you  an  incontestable  title 
to  enter  into  the  Kingdom  which  you  have  founded  as  far  as 
was  in  your  power. 

BLESSED  ARE  YE  WHEN  MEN  SHALL  REPROACH  YOU  AND  PERSE¬ 
CUTE  YOU  AND  SAY  ALL  MANNER  OF  EVIL  AGAINST  YOU 
FALSELY  FOR  MY  SAKE.  REJOICE  AND  BE  EXCEEDING 

glad:  for  great  is  your  reward  in  heaven: 

FOR  so  persecuted  THEY  THE  PROPHETS 
WHICH  WERE  BEFORE  YOU 

Persecution  is  a  material  attack  through  physical,  legal  and 
political  means.  The  persecutors  can  take  away  your  bread, 
and  the  clear  light  of  the  sun,  and  divine  liberty;  they  may 
break  your  bones,  but  you  must  endure  more  than  mere  per¬ 
secution.  You  must  expect  insult  and  calumny.  They  will 
condemn  you  because  you  wish  to  change  bestial  men  into 
saints.  Wallowing  in  the  foulness  of  their  bestiality,  they  de¬ 
test  the  idea  of  leaving  their  filth.  But  they  will  not  be  satis¬ 
fied  to  strike  only  at  your  body,  they  will  strike  also  at  your 
soul.  They  will  accuse  you  of  all  crimes,  they  will  stone  you 
with  slander  and  contumely.  Hogs  will  say  that  you  are 
filthy,  asses  will  swear  that  you  are  ignorant,  ravens  will  ac¬ 
cuse  you  of  eating  carrion,  rams  will  drive  you  away  as  ill¬ 
smelling,  the  dissolute  will  cry  out  upon  the  scandal  of  your 
corruptness  and  thieves  will  denounce  you  for  theft.  But  you 
must  always  rejoice  because  the  insult  of  evil  men  is  the  con¬ 
secration  of  your  own  goodness,  and  the  mud  thrown  at  you 
by  the  impure  is  the  pledge  of  your  purity.  This  is,  as  St. 
Francis  says,  ^‘the  perfect  joy.”  Beyond  all  the  graces  which 
Christ  gives  to  His  friends  is  the  grace  of  conquering  oneself 
and  willingly  enduring  injury,  opprobrium,  pains,  discomforts. 
All  the  other  gifts  of  God  are  not  ours  to  glory  in,  because  they 
come  not  from  us,  but  from  God;  but  in  tribulation  and  in 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


93 


affliction  we  can  glory  because  that  is  ours.  All  the  prophets 
who  have  ever  spoken  upon  the  earth  were  insulted  by  men, 
and  men  will  insult  those  who  are  to  come.  We  can  recognize 
prophets  by  this,  that  smeared  with  mud  and  covered  with 
shame,  they  pass  among  men,  bright-faced,  speaking  out  what 
is  in  their  hearts.  No  mud  can  close  the  lips  of  those  who 
must  speak.  Even  if  the  obstinate  prophet  is  killed,  they  can¬ 
not  silence  him.  His  voice  multiplied  by  the  echoes  of  his 
death  will  be  heard  in  all  languages  and  through  all  the 
centuries. 

This  promise  brings  the  beatitudes  to  their  end. 

By  means  of  the  beatitudes,  Christ  fully  explains  who  are 
fit  to  be  the  citizens  of  His  new  Kingdom.  Those  citizens  are 
henceforth  found  and  sealed;  every  one  can  recognize  them. 
The  unwilling  are  warned,  the  uncertain  are  reassured.  The 
rich,  the  proud,  the  satisfied,  the  violent,  the  unjust,  the  war¬ 
like,  those  who  mock,  those  who  do  not  hunger  after  perfec¬ 
tion,  those  who  persecute  and  outrage,  can  never  enter  into 
the  Kingdom  of  Heaven.  They  cannot  enter  there  until  they 
are  altogether  conquered  and  changed,  and  have  become  the 
opposite  of  what  they  are  now.  Those  who  live  happily  ac¬ 
cording  to  the  world,  those  whom  the  world  envies,  imitates 
and  admires,  are  infinitely  further  from  true  happiness  than 
those  others  whom  the  world  scorns  and  hates.  In  this  exult¬ 
ing  beginning  Jesus  has  turned  upside  down  the  human  hier¬ 
archy;  now  as  He  goes  on  He  will  turn  upside  down  the  values 
of  life,  and  no  other  revaluation  will  ever  be  so  divinely  para¬ 
doxical  as  His. 

THE  DIVINE  PARADOX 

Emasculated  Gymnosophists  and  the  cowardly  sect  of  the 
Saturnists, — these  are  serious-minded  men  who  can  understand 
plain  facts  but  cannot  interpret  those  facts  but  merely  repeat 
and  spoil  them — have  always  looked  with  unfriendly  eyes  on 
what  is  called  the  paradoxical.  To  save  themselves  the  trouble 
of  distinguishing  between  sacred  paradoxes  and  those  which 
are  only  a  fatuous  amusement,  they  make  haste  to  pass  judg- 


94 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


ment  on  all  paradox  as  nothing  else  than  the  overturning  of 
recognized  old  truths;  hence,  false  and — they  add,  to  clip  the 
wings  of  vanity — ^as  easy  as  possible  to  invent.  One  would 
suppose  it  seems  to  them  more  difficult  to  walk  along  the  road 
already  laid  out,  and  to  spell  over  line  by  line  what  was  writ¬ 
ten  before  they  were  born  by  men  who  certainly  had  not  their 
cowardly  temperament. 

But  if  these  priests  of  the  already-said  would  consider 
the  few  master  ideas  on  which  modern  thought  is  living,  or 
rather  on  which  it  is  dying,  they  would  discover  that  they  are 
almost  all  overturnings,  that  is  to  say,  paradoxes.  When 
Rousseau  says  that  men  are  born  good  but  that  society  makes 
them  bad,  he  turns  inside  out  the  accepted  doctrine  of  original 
sin;  when  the  disciples  of  progress  affirm  that  from  the  worse 
comes  the  better;  when  the  evolutionist  affirms  that  the  com¬ 
plex  springs  out  of  the  simple;  and  the  monist  that  all  diversi¬ 
ties  are  but  manifestations  of  the  One;  and  the  Marxist  that 
economic  history  is  the  basis  of  spiritual  development;  when 
the  modern  mathematical  philosophers  affirm  that  man  is  not 
as  he  has  always  been  believed,  the  center  of  the  universe,  but 
a  minute  animal  species  on  one  of  an  infinite  number  of  spheres 
scattered  in  the  infinite;  when  the  Protestants  cry,  ^The  Pope 
is  of  no  account  but  only  the  Scriptures”;  when  the  French 
Revolutionists  say,  “The  Third  Estate  is  nothing  and  should 
be  everything” — what  are  all  these  people  doing  except  over¬ 
turning  old  and  commonly  held  opinions? 

But  Jesus  is  the  greatest  overturner,  the  supreme  maker  of 
paradoxes,  radical  and  without  fear.  This  is  His  greatness, 
His  eternal  freshness  and  youth,  the  secret  of  the  turning 
sooner  or  later  of  every  great  heart  toward  His  Gospel. 

He  became  incarnate  to  recreate  men  sunk  in  error  and 
evil;  He  found  error  and  evil  in  the  world;  how  could  He  fail 
to  overturn  the  maxims  of  the  world?  Read  over  again  the 
words  of  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount.  At  every  step  it  proclaims 
the  desire  of  Jesus  that  what  is  low  shall  be  recognized  as 
lofty;  that  the  last  shall  be  first;  that  the  overlooked  shall  be 
the  preferred;  that  the  scorned  shall  be  reverenced,  and  finally, 
that  the  old  truth  shall  be  considered  as  error,  and  ordinary 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


95 


life  as  death  and  corruption.  He  has  said  to  the  past,  be¬ 
numbed  in  its  death  agony,  to  Nature,  too  easily  followed,  to 
universal  and  common  opinion  of  mankind,  the  most  decisive 
“NO’’  in  the  history  of  the  world. 

In  this  He  is  faithful  to  the  spirit  of  His  race  which  in  its 
very  downfall  always  found  reasons  for  greater  hope.  The 
most  enslaved  people  dreamed  of  dominating  other  peoples 
with  the  help  of  the  Son  of  David.  The  most  despised  race 
felt  that  glory  was  promised  them,  the  people  most  punished 
by  God  believed  itself  the  most  loved;  the  most  sinful  was 
certain  that  it  alone  was  to  be  saved.  This  absurd  reaction  of 
the  Hebrew  conscience  became  in  Christ  a  revision  of  values, 
became,  because  of  His  superhuman  origin,  a  divine  renovation 
of  all  the  principles  followed  and  respected  by  humanity. 

Christ’s  first  discovery  is  like  that  of  Buddha,  “Men  are 
unhappy,  all  men — even  those  who  seem  happy.”  Siddharta 
to  put  an  end  to  pain  counseled  the  suppression  of  life  itself. 
Jesus  had  another  hope,  more  sublime  in  that  it  appears  ab¬ 
surd.  He  taught  that  men  are  unhappy  because  they  have  not 
found  true  life.  Let  them  become  the  opposite  of  what  they 
are,  let  them  do  the  contrary  of  what  they  do,  and  the  festival 
of  happiness  on  earth  will  begin. 

Until  now  they  have  followed  Nature,  they  have  let  them¬ 
selves  be  guided  by  their  instincts,  they  have  accepted  and 
that  only  superficially  a  provisional  and  insufficient  law,  they 
have  worshiped  lying  gods,  they  have  thought  they  could  find 
happiness  in  wine,  in  flesh,  in  gold,  in  authority,  in  cruelty,  in 
art,  in  learning;  and  the  only  result  has  been  that  their  suffer¬ 
ing  has  become  more  intense.  The  explanation  is  that  they 
I  have  lost  the  path,  that  they  must  turn  straight  around,  re¬ 
nounce  what  seemed  good,  pick  up  what  was  thrown  away, 

I  worship  what  was  burned,  and  burn  what  was  worshiped, 

II  conquer  the  animal  instincts  instead  of  satisfying  them,  strug- 
I  gle  with  their  nature  instead  of  justifying  it,  make  a  new  law 

and  live  by  it,  faithfully,  in  the  spirit.  If  until  now  they  have 
not  obtained  what  they  looked  for,  the  only  possible  cure  is  to 
I  turn  their  present  life  upside  down,  that  is,  to  transform  their 
!  souls. 


96 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


Our  permanent  unhappiness  is  a  proof  that  the  experiment 
of  the  old  world  has  failed,  that  Nature  is  hostile,  that  the  past 
is  wrong,  that  to  live  like  animals  according  to  the  elementary 
instinct  of  animals,  only  slightly  furbished  up  and  varnished 
with  humanity,  results  in  wretchedness  and  despair. 

Those  who  have  laughed  at  or  wept  over  the  infinite  wretch¬ 
edness  of  man  have  seen  clearly.  The  pessimists  are  right. 
Those  who  denounce  our  boasting,  those  who  scorn  our 
strengthlessness,  those  who  despise  our  ignominy,  how  can  they 
be  refuted? 

Whoever  is  not  born  to  wriggle  contentedly  in  the  worm 
heap,  eating  his  particle  of  earth,  he  who  has  not  only  a 
stomach  and  two  hands,  but  a  soul  and  a  heart;  he  whose  soul 
is  of  finer  temper  because  it  has  been  so  beaten  upon,  is  bound 
to  feel  a  horror  of  mankind.  For  hard,  arid  natures  this  horror 
changes  into  repugnance  and  hate;  for  others  richer  and  more 
generous  it  turns  to  pity  and  love. 

When  we  read  Leopardi  and  consider  how  he  lost  (perhaps 
because  of  the  imperfect  Christians  surrounding  him)  his 
youthful  love  of  Christ  and,  eating  his  heart  out  in  reasoning 
despair,  ended  with  the  despairing  lines,  “Tiresome  and  bitter 
is  life,  never  aught  but  that”;  who  of  us  will  have  the  insight 
to  reply,  “Be  quiet,  unfortunate  man!  If  you  taste  nothing 
but  bitterness,  it  comes  from  the  wormwood  you  are  eating;  if 
you  find  life  tiresome  the  fault  is  yours;  you  yourself  have 
used  the  infernal  stone  of  barren  reasoning  to  cauterize  those 
feelings  which  would  have  made  your  life  cheerful  or  at  least 
endurable”? 

No,  Leopardi  was  not  mistaken,  for  when  you  see  men  as 
they  are  and  have  no  hope  of  saving  them,  or  changing  them, 
and  you  cannot  live  like  them  because  you  are  too  different 
from  them,  and  cannot  succeed  in  loving  them  because  you  be¬ 
lieve  them  condemned  to  eternal  unhappiness  and  wickedness, 
when  you  feel  that  the  brutes  will  always  be  brutes  and  the 
cowards  always  cowards  and  the  foul  always  more  sunk  in  their 
foulness,  what  else  can  you  do  but  counsel  your  heart  to  si¬ 
lence,  and  hope  for  death?  There  is  but  one  question:  are  men 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


97 


unchangeable,  not  to  be  transformed,  not  capable  of  becoming 
better?  Or,  on  the  other  hand,  can  man  rise  above  himself 
and  make  himself  holy?  The  answer  is  of  terrible  importance. 
All  our  destiny  is  in  that  question.  Among  superior  men 
many  have  not  been  fully  conscious  of  this  dilemma. 
Many  have  believed  and  still  believe  that  the  form  of  life  can 
be  changed,  but  not  the  essence;  and  that  to  man  everything 
will  be  given  except  to  change  the  nature  of  his  spirit;  that 
man  can  become  yet  more  master  of  the  world,  richer  and  more 
learned,  but  he  cannot  change  his  moral  structure.  His  feel¬ 
ings,  his  primary  instincts  will  always  remain  as  they  were  in 
the  wild  occupants  of  the  caves,  in  the  constructors  of  the  lake 
cities,  in  the  first  barbarians  and  in  the  peoples  of  the  most 
ancient  kingdoms. 

Others  feel  an  equal  horror  of  man  as  he  has  been  and  as 
he  is,  but  before  they  sink  into  the  despair  of  moral  nihilism 
they  look  at  man  as  he  could  be.  They  have  a  firm  faith  in 
his  perfectibility  of  soul  and  find  happiness  in  the  divine  but 
terrible  task  of  preparing  the  happiness  of  their  brothers. 

For  men  who  are  truly  men  there  is  no  other  choice:  either 
the  blackest  anguish  or  the  boldest  faith  ;  either  death  or  salva¬ 
tion.  The  past  is  horrible,  the  present  is  repellent;  let  us  give 
all  our  life,  let  us  offer  all  our  power  of  loving  and  understand¬ 
ing  in  order  that  to-morrow  may  be  better,  that  the  future  may 
be  happy.  If  up  to  now  we  have  erred,  and  the  irrefutable 
proof  is  the  black  past  from  which  we  have  come,  let  us  work 
for  the  birth  of  a  new  man  and  a  new  life.  There  are  but  two 
possibilities  :  either  happiness  will  never  be  given  to  men  or,  and 
this  Jesus  believed  firmly,  if  happiness  could  be  our  ordinary 
and  eternal  possession  there  is  no  other  price  for  attaining  it 
but  to  change  our  course,  transform  our  souls,  create  new 
values,  deny  the  old,  answer  the  ^‘No”  of  holiness  to  the  false 
“Yes”  of  the  world.  If  Christ  was  mistaken,  nothing  remains 
but  absolute  and  universal  negation,  resolute  faith  in  nothing. 
Either  complete  and  rigorous  atheism,  not  the  maimed  hypo¬ 
critical  atheism  of  the  cowardly  sects  of  to-day;  or  active  faith 
in  Christ  who  saves  and  resurrects  us  by  His  love. 


98 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


YE  HAVE  HEARD 

The  first  prophets,  the  earliest  legislators,  the  leaders  of 
young  nations,  the  Kings,  founders  of  cities  and  institutors  of 
justice,  the  wise  masters,  the  saints,  began  the  domination 
of  the  beast.  With  spoken  and  sculptured  word  they  tamed 
wolfish  men,  domesticated  the  men  of  the  woods,  held  bar¬ 
barians  in  restraint,  taught  those  bearded  children,  softened 
the  violent,  the  vengeful,  the  inhuman.  With  the  gentleness  of 
the  word  or  the  terror  of  punishment  (Orpheus  or  Draco),  by 
promises  or  by  threats,  in  the  name  of  the  gods  of  high  heavens 
or  the  gods  under  the  earth,  they  trimmed  the  nails,  which  im¬ 
mediately  grew  long  again;  put  muzzles  over  the  sharp-fanged 
mouths;  protected  the  defenseless,  the  victims,  pilgrims, 
women.  The  old  law  that  is  found  with  only  a  few  variations 
in  the  Manava  Dharmasastra,  in  the  Pentateuch,  in  the  Ta- 
Hio,  in  the  Avesta,  in  the  traditions  of  Solon  and  of  Numa,  in 
the  sententious  maxims  of  Hesiod  and  the  Seven  Wise  Men, 
is  the  first  attempt,  rough,  imperfect  and  inadequate,  to  mold 
animality  into  a  sketch,  a  beginning,  a  simulacrum  of  hu¬ 
manity. 

This  law  reduced  itself  to  a  few  elementary  rules;  not  to 
steal,  not  to  kill,  not  to  perjure,  not  to  fornicate,  not  to  tyran¬ 
nize  over  the  weak,  not  to  mistreat  strangers  and  slaves  any 
more  than  was  necessary.  These  are  the  social  virtues,  strictly 
necessary  for  a  common  life,  useful  to  all.  The  legislator  con¬ 
tented  himself  with  naming  the  most  ordinary  sins,  asked  for 
a  minimum  of  inhibition.  His  ideal  rarely  surpassed  a  sort  of 
approximate  justice.  But  the  law  took  for  granted  the  pre¬ 
dominance  of  evil,  the  sovereignty  of  instinct,  earlier  than  the 
law  and  still  existing.  Every  precept  implies  its  infraction, 
every  rule  the  practice  of  the  opposite.  For  this  reason  the 
old  law,  the  law  of  the  first  peoples,  is  only  an  insufficient 
channeling  of  the  brute  force  eternal  and  triumphant.  It  is  a 
collection  of  compromises  and  half-measures  between  custom 
and  justice,  between  nature  and  reason,  between  the  rebellious 
beast  and  the  divine  model. 

Men  of  ancient  times,  carnal,  physical,  hearty,  lusty,  muscu- 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


99 


lar,  sanguine,  sturdy,  solid,  hairy  men  with  ruddy  faces,  eaters 
of  raw  meat,  ravishers,  cattle-stealers,  mutilators  of  their  ene¬ 
mies,  fit  to  be  called,  like  Hector  the  Trojan,  ^‘killers  of  men,” 
strong,  zestful  warriors  who,  having  dragged  by  the  feet  their 
slaughtered  antagonists,  refreshed  themselves  with  fat 
haunches  of  oxen  and  of  mutton,  emptying  enormous  cups  of 
wine;  these  men  ill-tamed,  ill-subdued  to  the  law  such  as  we 
see  them  in  the  Mahabharata,  and  in  the  Iliad,  in  the  poem  of 
Izdubar,  and  in  the  book  of  the  wars  of  Jehovah,  such  men 
without  the  fear  of  punishment  and  of  God  would  have  been 
still  more  unrestrained  and  ferocious.  In  times  when  a  head 
was  asked  for  an  eye,  an  arm  for  a  finger,  and  a  hundred  lives 
for  a  life,  a  law  of  retaliation  which  asked  only  an  eye  for 
an  eye  and  a  life  for  a  life  was  a  notable  victory  of  generosity, 
appalling  though  it  seems  after  the  teaching  of  Jesus. 

But  the  law  was  more  often  disobeyed  than  observed;  the 
strong  endured  it  against  their  will,  the  powerful  who  ought 
to  have  protected  it,  evaded  it;  the  bad  violated  it  openly;  the 
weak  cheated  it.  And  even  if  it  had  been  entirely  obeyed  by 
every  man  every  day  it  would  not  have  been  enough  to  con¬ 
quer  the  evil  perpetually  boiling  up,  held  down  only  for  a 
moment,  rendered  harder  to  enact  but  not  impossible,  con¬ 
demned  but  not  abolished.  It  was  a  reduction  of  innate  fierce¬ 
ness,  not  its  total  extirpation.  Men,  shackled  but  reluctant, 
had  learned  to  pretend  obedience,  did  a  little  good  where  every 
one  could  see  them  in  order  to  be  more  free  to  do  wrong  se¬ 
cretly,  exaggerated  the  observance  of  external  precepts  that 
they  might  the  better  betray  the  foundation  and  spirit  of  the 
law. 

They  had  come  to  this  point  when  Jesus  spoke  on  the  Mount. 
He  understood  that  the  old  law  was  doomed,  drowned  in  the 
stagnant  swamps  of  formalism;  the  endless  work  of  the  educa¬ 
tion  of  the  human  race  was  to  begin  over  again,  the  ashes  must 
be  brushed  away,  the  flame  of  original  enthusiasm  must  be 
blown  into  it,  it  must  be  carried  through  to  its  original  desti¬ 
nation  which  is  always  metanoia,  the  changing  of  the  soul. 
And  for  this  it  was  necessary  to  terminate  the  old  law,  the 
dried  and  burnt-out  old  law. 


lOO 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


With  Jesus  therefore  begins  the  new  law:  the  old  is  abro-* 
gated  and  declared  insufficient. 

He  begins  at  every  example  with  the  words — ^We  have  heard 
it  said”  .  .  .  and  at  once  He  substitutes  for  the  old  command, 
which  He  purifies  by  paradox  or  actually  overthrows,  the  new 
command,  “But  I  say  unto  you  .  . 

With  these  “buts”  a  new  phase  of  the  human  education  be¬ 
gins.  It  is  not  the  fault  of  Jesus  if  we  are  still  groping  along 
in  the  twilight  of  very  early  dawn. 

BUT  I  SAY  UNTO  YOU 

“Ye  have  heard  that  it  was  said  by  them  of  old  time.  Thou 
shalt  not  kill  .  .  .  but  I  say  unto  you.  That  whosoever  is  an¬ 
gry  with  his  brother  .  .  .  shall  be  in  danger  of  the  judgment: 
and  whosoever  shall  say  to  his  brother,  Raca,  shall  be  in  danger 
of  the  council:  but  whosoever  shall  say.  Thou  fool,  shall  be 
in  danger  of  hell  fire.”  Jesus  goes  straight  to  the  extreme. 
He  does  not  even  consider  the  possibility  of  striking  a  brother, 
much  less  of  killing  him.  He  does  not  conceive  even  the  in¬ 
tention,  the  wish  to  kill.  A  single  moment  of  anger,  a  single 
abusive  word,  a  single  offensive  phrase,  are  for  him  the  equiva¬ 
lent  of  assassination.  Unimaginative,  mediocre  people  cry  out, 
“Exaggeration.”  There  can  be  no  grandeur  where  there  is 
no  passion  and  passion  is  exaggeration.  Jesus  has  His  own 
logic  and  makes  no  mistake.  Murder  is  only  the  final  carry¬ 
ing  out  of  a  feeling.  From  anger  follow  evil  words,  from  evil 
words,  evil  deeds;  from  blows,  murder.  It  is  not  enough 
therefore  to  forbid  the  final  act,  the  material  and  external  act. 
That  is  only  the  result  of  an  interior  process  which  has  made 
it  inevitable.  The  right  thing  to  do  is  to  cut  at  the  root  of  the 
evil  to  destroy  the  evil  plant  of  hate  which  bears  the  poisonous 
fruit. 

Achilles,  son  of  Peleus,  that  same  Achilles  who  was  wrathful 
because  they  took  away  his  concubine,  and  who  begged  the 
Gods  to  let  him  become  a  cannibal  so  that  he  could  set  his  teeth 
in  his  dead  enemies’  flesh,  Achilles  of  the  silver-footed  mother 
said:  “Whether  they  come  from  Gods  or  from  men,  ill-omened 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


lOI 


are  quarrels  and  the  anger  which  drives  even  a  wise  man  to 
wrath,  wrath  which  sweeter  than  honey  in  the  mouth  grows 
greater  in  men’s  hearts.”  Achilles,  after  the  massacre  of  his 
companions,  after  the  death  of  his  dearest  friend,  discovers 
finally  what  a  thing  is  wrath,  which  kindles  and  burns  and  not 
even  a  river  of  blood  can  quench  it.  The  wrathful  hero  knows 
what  an  evil  thing  is  wrath,  but  he  is  not  converted.  And  he 
foregoes  his  wrath  against  the  king  of  men  only  to  vent  the 
fury  of  his  vengeance  upon  the  murdered  body  of  Hector. 

Anger  is  like  fire:  it  can  be  smothered  only  at  the  first  spark; 
afterwards  it  is  too  late.  Jesus  uttered  the  profoundest  truth 
when  He  decreed  the  same  penalty  for  the  first  hot  words  as 
for  murder.  When  all  men  learn  to  conquer  at  the  very  start 
their  outbreaks  of  resentment  and  to  curb  their  imprecations, 
quarrels  of  words  or  of  deeds  will  flame  up  no  longer  betv/een 
man  and  his  brother  man,  and  homicide  will  become  only  a 
black  memory  of  our  wild-beast  past. 

^We  have  heard  that  it  was  said  of  them  of  old  time,  thou 
shalt  not  commit  adultery,  but  I  say  unto  you  that  whoever 
looketh  upon  a  woman  to  lust  after  her  hath  committed 
adultery  already  in  his  heart.”  Even  here  Jesus  does  not  stop 
with  the  material  fact  which  seems  of  importance  to  gross  men. 
He  always  soars  from  the  body  to  the  soul,  from  flesh  to  will, 
from  the  visible  to  the  invisible.  The  tree  is  judged  by  its 
fruit,  but  the  seed  is  judged  by  the  tree.  Evil  visible  to  all  is 
seen  too  late.  In  its  maturity  it  can  no  longer  be  prevented. 
Sin  is  the  pustule  which  suddenly  appears,  but  which  would  not 
have  appeared  if  the  blood  had  been  purged  from  its  malignant 
humors  in  time.  When  a  man  and  another  man’s  wife  desire 
each  other,  the  betrayal  is  complete,  they  have  committed 
adultery  whether  or  not  they  are  guilty  in  deed.  A  man  mar¬ 
ries  not  only  the  body  of  his  wife,  but  her  soul.  If  her  soul  is 
lost  to  him  he  has  lost  the  greater  part.  To  lose  also  the  lesser 
part  may  be  unendurably  painful,  but  it  is  not  vital. 
A  woman  overcome  and  forced  without  her  consent  by  a 
stranger  not  loved  by  her,  does  not  commit  adultery.  What 
counts  is  the  intention,  the  feeling.  He  who  wishes  to  main¬ 
tain  himself  pure  must  abstain  also  from  the  mere  silent  pass- 


102 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


ing  look  of  desire,  because  the  look  of  desire  if  not  repressed 
is  repeated  and  a  look  passes  into  a  word,  into  a  kiss,  and  into 
love  which  spares  no  lover.  To  think  of,  to  imagine,  to  desire 
a  betrayal  is  already  a  betrayal.  He  alone  who  cuts  the  first 
thread  can  save  himself  from  the  great  net  of  perversity 
which,  starting  from  a  glance,  grows  until  not  even  death  can 
break  it.  And  Jesus  advises  expressly  to  pluck  out  the  eye  and 
cast  it  away  if  evil  comes  from  the  eye,  and  to  cut  off  the  hand 
and  throw  it  away  if  evil  comes  from  the  hand, — advice 
which  dismays  the  cowardly  and  even  the  strong.  Yet  even 
the  most  cowardly,  when  threatened  by  cancer,  have  their 
arms  or  legs  cut  off,  and  if  a  tumor  grows  in  the  bowels,  are 
ready  to  have  their  bodies  cut  open  to  save  their  lives.  Men 
are  concerned  to  save  the  body,  but  grudge  any  sacrifice  neces¬ 
sary  to  keep  in  health  the  soul,  without  which  the  body  is  only 
an  insensate  machine  of  flesh  and  blood. 

“Again,  ye  have  heard  that  it  hath  been  said  by  them  of 
old  time.  Thou  shalt  not  forswear  thyself,  but  shalt  perform 
unto  the  Lord  thine  oaths: 

“But  I  say  unto  you,  Swear  not  at  all,  neither  by  heaven; 
for  it  is  God’s  throne: 

“Nor  by  the  earth;  for  it  is  his  footstool:  neither  by  Jerusa¬ 
lem;  for  it  is  the  city  of  the  great  King. 

“Neither  shalt  thou  swear  by  thy  head,  because  thou  canst 
not  make  one  hair  white  or  black. 

“But  let  your  communication  be,  Yea,  yea;  Nay,  nay:  for 
whatsoever  is  more  than  these  cometh  of  evil.” 

He  who  swears  to  the  truth  is  afraid,  he  who  swears  to  the 
false  is  a  traitor.  The  first  believes  that  the  power  invoked 
could  punish  him,  the  other  is  an  impostor  who  profits  by  the 
faith  of  others  the  more  readily  to  deceive  them.  In  both 
cases  swearing  is  wrong.  For  us  impotent  men  to  call  on  a 
superior  power  to  bear  witness  or  to  be  a  judge  in  our  miser¬ 
able  quarrels  of  opposed  interest,  to  swear  by  our  heads  or  by 
our  sons’  heads  when  we  cannot  change  the  appearance  of  the 
smallest  part  of  our  body,  is  an  absurd  challenge,  a  blasphemy. 
He  who  always  speaks  the  truth  not  through  dread  of  penal¬ 
ties,  but  through  natural  desire  of  his  soul,  needs  no  oaths. 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


103 


Oaths  can  almost  always  be  called  in  question,  and  never 
serve  to  give  perfect  security  even  to  those  who  seem  to  be 
satisfied  with  them.  In  the  history  of  the  world  there  are 
more  stories  of  broken  oaths  than  of  oaths  kept,  and  he  who 
uses  most  words  to  swear  is  precisely  the  man  who  is  already 
thinking  of  breaking  his  oath. 

^‘Ye  have  heard  it  said.  Honor  thy  father  and  thy  mother, 
but  I  say  unto  you,  he  that  loveth  his  father  and  mother  more 
than  me  is  not  worthy  of  me.”  And  also,  ‘Hf  any  man  come 
to  me,  and  hate  not  his  father,  and  mother,  and  wife,  and  chil¬ 
dren,  and  brethren,  and  sisters,  yea,  and  his  own  life  also,  he 
cannot  be  my  disciple.”  Here  also  the  old  precept  which  ties 
the  new  order  to  the  old  order  with  the  tether  of  reverence  is 
brusquely  reversed. 

Jesus  does  not  condemn  filial  love,  but  He  puts  it  in  its  right 
place,  which  is  not  first  of  all,  as  the  people  of  antiquity 
thought.  For  Him  the  greatest  love,  the  purest  is  paternal 
love.  The  father  loves  in  the  son  the  future,  what  is  new;  the 
son  loves  in  the  father,  the  past,  the  old.  But  Jesus  comes  to 
change  the  past,  to  destroy  the  old.  Homage  paid  to  parents, 
shutting  oneself  up  in  tradition  and  in  the  family,  is  a  barrier 
to  the  renovation  of  the  world.  Love  of  all  men  is  a  greater 
thing  than  love  for  those  who  gave  us  life.  Salvation  for  all 
men  is  infinitely  preferable  to  the  service  of  the  few  who  make 
up  a  family.  To  have  the  greater,  one  must  needs  abandon  the 
less.  It  would  be  more  convenient  to  love  only  those  of  our 
family  and  to  make  this  love  (often  forced  and  simulated)  an 
excuse  for  not  being  friendly  to  any  one  else.  But  he  who  is 
devoting  his  life  to  something  which  transcends  him  has  a 
great  undertaking  which  takes  all  his  strength  and  every  mo¬ 
ment  of  his  every  hour  until  the  last.  He  who  wishes  to  serve 
the  universe  with  a  broad  spirit  must  give  up,  and  if  that  is 
not  enough,  deny  the  common  affections.  He  who  wishes  to  be 
Father  in  the  divine  sense  of  the  word,  even  without  physical 
paternity,  cannot  be  merely  a  son.  “Let  the  dead  bury  their 
dead.”  In  the  old  law,  and  more  than  ever  in  the  learned  tra¬ 
ditions,  there  were  hundreds  of  precepts  for  the  purification  of 
the  body,  minute,  tiresome,  complicated  precepts  without  any 


104 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


true  earthly  or  heavenly  foundation.  The  Pharisees  made  the 
best  part  of  religion  consist  in  the  observance  of  these  tradh 
tions  because  it  is  much  less  trouble  to  wash  a  cup  than  your 
own  soul.  For  a  dead  thing  like  a  cup  a  little  water  and  a 
towel  are  enough;  for  the  soul  there  must  be  tears  of  love  and 
the  fire  of  desire.  “Not  that  which  goeth  into  the  mouth  de- 
fileth  a  man;  but  that  which  cometh  out  of  the  mouth,  this 
defileth  a  man.  Do  ye  not  understand  that  whatsoever  enter- 
eth  in  at  the  mouth  goeth  into  the  belly  and  is  cast  out  into  the 
draught?  But  those  things  which  proceed  out  of  the  mouth 
come  forth  from  the  heart;  and  they  defile  the  man.  For  out 
of  the  heart  proceed  evil  thoughts,  murders,  adulteries,  forni¬ 
cations,  thefts,  false  witness,  blasphemies.  These  are  the 
things  which  defile  a  man;  but  to  eat  with  unwashen  hands 
defileth  not  a  man.” 

The  bath  with  water  from  the  well  or  from  the  fountain, 
the  bodily  and  ritual  bath,  does  not  take  the  place  of  the  essen¬ 
tial  inner  purification,  and  it  is  better  to  eat  with  hands  soiled 
with  sweat  than  to  repel  a  hungry  brother  with  hands  washed 
in  three  waters.  Filth  issues  from  the  body,  disappears  into 
the  vaults  and  enriches  orchards  and  fields.  But  there  are 
many  finely  dressed  gentlemen  so  full  to  the  throat  with  an¬ 
other  sort  of  filth  that  the  stench  of  it  comes  out  with 
the  words  from  their  mouths,  vainly  washed  and  rinsed.  And 
this  filth  does  not  disappear  into  underground  vaults,  but  soils 
every  one’s  life,  poisons  the  air,  befouls  even  the  innocent. 
From  these  excremental  men  we  should  stand  far  away,  even 
if  they  are  washed  twelve  times  a  day;  the  soaping  of  the  skin 
is  not  enough  if  the  heart  sends  up  noisome  thoughts.  The 
sewer-cleaner,  if  he  thinks  no  evil,  is  certainly  cleaner  than 
the  rich  man  who,  while  splashing  in  the  perfumed  water  of  his 
marble  bath  tub,  is  meditating  some  new  fornication  or  fraud. 

NONRESISTANCE 

But  Jesus  had  not  yet  arrived  at  the  most  stupefying  of  His  > 
revolutionary  teachings.  “Ye  have  heard  that  it  hath  been  l 
said,  An  eye  for  an  eye,  and  a  tooth  for  a  tooth:  But  I  say.^ 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


105 


unto  you,  That  ye  resist  not  evil:  But  whosoever  shall  smite 
thee  on  thy  right  cheek,  turn  to  him  the  other  also.  And  if  any 
man  will  sue  thee  at  the  law,  and  take  away  thy  coat,  let  him 
have  thy  cloke  also.  And  whosoever  shall  compel  thee  to  go 
a  mile,  go  with  him  twain.’’ 

There  could  be  no  more  definite  repudiation  of  the  old  law 
of  retaliation.  The  greater  part  of  those  who  call  themselves 
Christians  not  only  have  never  observed  this  new  Command¬ 
ment,  but  have  never  been  willing  to  pretend  to  approve  of  it. 
For  an  infinite  number  of  believers  this  principle  of  not  re¬ 
sisting  evil  has  been  the  unendurable  and  inacceptable  scandal 
of  Christianity. 

There  are  three  answers  which  men  can  make  to  violence: 
revenge,  flight,  turning  the  other  cheek.  The  first  is  the  bar¬ 
barous  principle  of  retaliation,  now  smoothed  over  and  emas¬ 
culated  in  the  legal  codes,  but  nevertheless  prevailing  in  usage: 
evil  is  returned  for  evil,  either  in  one’s  own  person  or  by  the 
means  of  intermediaries,  representatives  of  our  tribal  lack  of 
civilization,  called  judges  or  executioners.  To  the  evil  com¬ 
mitted  by  the  first  offender  are  added  the  evils  committed  by 
the  officers  of  justice.  Often  the  punishment  turns  on  the 
punisher  and  the  terrible  chain  of  violence  from  one  revenge 
to  another  stretches  out  interminably.  Wrong  is  two-edged; 
it  fails  even  if  inflicted  with  the  desire  of  doing  good,  in  na¬ 
tions,  or  families  or  individuals.  A  first  crime  brings  after  it  a 
train  of  expiations  and  punishments  which  are  distributed  with 
sinister  impartiality  between  offenders  and  offended.  The  law 
of  retaliation  can  give  a  bestial  relief  to  him  who  is  first  struck, 
but  instead  of  lessening  evil  it  multiplies  it. 

Flight  is  no  better  than  retaliation.  He  who  hides  himself 
redoubles  his  enemies’  courage.  Fear  of  retaliation  can  on  rare 
occasions  hold  back  the  violent  hand,  but  the  man  who  takes 
flight  invites  pursuit.  He  who  hides  invites  his  adversary  to 
make  an  end  of  him.  His  weakness  becomes  the  accomplice 
of  the  ferocity  of  others.  Here  also  evil  begets  evil. 

In  spite  of  its  apparent  absurdity  the  only  way  is  that  com¬ 
manded  by  Jesus.  If  a  man  gives  you  a  blow  and  you  return 
another  blow,  he  will  answer  with  his  fists,  you  in  turn  with 


io6 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


kicks,  weapons  will  be  drawn  and  one  of  you  may  lose  your 
life,  often  for  a  trivial  reason.  If  you  fly,  your  adversary  will 
follow  you  and  emboldened  by  his  first  experience  will  knock 
you  down.  Turning  the  other  cheek  means  not  receiving  the 
second  blow.  It  means  cutting  the  chain  of  the  inevitable 
wrongs  at  the  first  link.  Your  adversary  who  expected  resis¬ 
tance  or  flight  is  humiliated  before  you  and  before  himself. 
He  was^ready  for  anything  but  this.  He  is  thrown  into  con¬ 
fusion,  a  confusion  which  is  almost  shame.  He  has  the  time 
to  come  to  himself  ;  your  immobility  cools  his  anger,  gives  him 
time  to  reflect.  He  cannot  accuse  you  of  fear  because  you  are 
ready  to  receive  the  second  blow,  and  you  yourself  show  him 
the  place  to  strike.  Every  man  has  an  obscure  respect  for 
courage  in  others,  especially  if  it  is  moral  courage,  the  rarest 
and  most  difficult  sort  of  bravery.  An  injured  man  who  feels 
no  resentment  and  who  does  not  run  away  shows  more  strength 
of  soul,  more  mastery  of  himself,  more  true  heroism  than  he 
who  in  the  blindness  of  rage  rushes  upon  the  offender  to  render 
back  to  him  twice  the  evil  received.  Quietness,  when  it  is  not 
stupidity,  gentleness,  when  it  is  not  cowardice,  astound  common 
souls  as  do  all  marvelous  things.  They  make  the  very  brute 
understand  that  this  man  is  more  than  a  man.  The  brute  him¬ 
self  when  not  incited  to  follow  by  a  hot  answer  or  by  cowardly 
flight,  remains  paralyzed,  feels  almost  afraid  of  this  new,  un¬ 
known^  puzzling  force,  the  more  so  because  among  the  greatest 
exciting  factors  for  the  man  who  strikes,  is  his  anticipated 
pleasure  in  the  angry  blow,  in  the  resistance,  in  the  ensuing 
struggle.  Man  is  a  fighting  animal;  but  with  no  resistance 
offerea  the  pleasure  disappears;  there  is  no  zest  left.  There  is 
no  longer  an  adversary,  but  a  superior  who  says  quietly,  “Is 
that  not  enough?  Here  is  the  other  cheek;  strike  as  long  as 
you  wish.  It  is  better  that  my  face  should  suffer  than  my  soul. 
You  can  hurt  me  as  much  as  you  wish,  but  you  cannot  force 
me  to  follow  you  into  a  mad,  brutal  rage.  The  fact  that  some 
one  has  wronged  me  cannot  force  me  to  act  wrongly.’’ 

Literally  to  follow  this  command  of  Jesus  demands  a  mas¬ 
tery  possessed  by  few,  of  the  blood,  of  the  nerves,  and  of  all  the 
instincts  of  the  baser  part  of  our  being.  It  is  a  bitter  and  re- 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


107 


pellent  command;  but  Jesus  never  said  it  would  be  easy  to  fol¬ 
low  Him.  He  never  said  it  would  be  possible  to  obey  Him 
without  harsh  renunciations,  without  stern  and  continuous 
inner  battles;  without  the  denial  of  the  old  Adam  and  the  birth 
of  the  new  man.  And  yet  the  results  of  non-resistance,  even  if 
they  are  not  always  perfect,  are  certainly  superior  to  those  of 
resistance  or  flight.  The  example  of  so  extraordinary  a  spirit¬ 
ual  mastery,  so  impossible  and  unthinkable  for  common  men, 
the  almost  superhuman  fascination  of  conduct  so  contrary  to 
usual  customs,  traditions  and  passions;  this  example,  this  spec¬ 
tacle  of  power,  this  puzzling  miracle,  unexpected  like  all  mira¬ 
cles,  difficult  to  understand  like  all  prodigies,  this  example  of 
a  strong,  sane  man  who  looks  like  other  men,  and  yet  who  acts 
almost  like  a  God,  like  a  being  above  other  beings,  above  the 
motives  which  move  other  men — this  example  if  repeated  more 
than  once,  if  it  cannot  be  laid  to  supine  stupidity,  if  it  is  ac¬ 
companied  by  proofs  of  physical  courage  when  physical  cour¬ 
age  is  necessary  to  enjoy  and  not  to  harm — this  example  has 
an  effectiveness  which  we  can  imagine,  soaked  though  we  are 
in  the  ideas  of  revenge  and  reprisals.  We  imagine  it  with  diffi¬ 
culty;  we  cannot  prove  it  because  we  have  had  too  few  of  such 
examples  to  be  able  to  cite  even  partial  experiments  as  proofs 
of  our  intuition. 

But  if  this  command  of  Jesus  has  never  been  obeyed  or  too 
rarely  obeyed,  there  is  no  proof  that  it  cannot  be  followed,  still 
less  that  it  ought  to  be  rejected.  It  is  repugnant  to  human  na¬ 
ture,  but  all  real  moral  conquests  are  repugnant  to  our  nature. 
They  are  salutary  amputations  of  a  part  of  our  soul — for  some 
of  us  the  most  living  part  of  the  soul — and  it  is  natural  that  the 
threat  of  mutilation  should  make  us  shudder.  But  whether  it 
pleases  us  or  not,  only  by  accepting  this  command  of  Christ 
can  we  solve  the  problem  of  violence.  It  is  the  only  course 
which  does  not  add  evil  to  evil,  which  does  not  multiply  evil 
a  hundredfold,  which  prevents  the  infection  of  the  wound, 
which  cuts  out  the  malignant  growth  when  it  is  only  a  tiny 
pustule.  To  answer  blows  with  blows,  evil  deeds  with  evil 
deeds,  is  to  meet  the  attacker  on  his  own  ground,  to  proclaim 
oneself  as  low  as  he.  To  answer  with  flight  is  to  humiliate  one- 


io8 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


self  before  him,  and  incite  him  to  continue.  To  answer  a  furi¬ 
ously  angry  man  with  reasonable  words  is  useless  effort.  But 
to  answer  with  a  simple  gesture  of  acceptance,  to  endure  for 
three  days  the  bore  who  inflicts  himself  on  you  for  an  hour,  to 
offer  your  breast  to  the  man  who  has  struck  you  on  the  shoul¬ 
der,  to  give  a  thousand  to  the  man  who  has  stolen  a  hundred 
from  you,  these  are  acts  of  heroic  excellence,  supine  though 
they  may  appear,  so  extraordinary  that  they  overcome  the 
brutal  bully  with  the  irresistible  majesty  of  the  divine.  Only 
he  who  has  conquered  himself  can  conquer  his  enemies.  Only 
the  saints  can  charm  wolves  to  mildness.  Only  he  who  has 
transformed  his  own  soul  can  transform  the  souls  of  his 
brothers,  and  transform  the  world  into  a  less  grievous  place 
for  all. 


AGAINST  NATURE 

Nonresistance  to  evil  is  profoundly  repugnant  to  our  nature, 
but  to  obey  the  teachings  of  Christ  means  that  our  nature  will 
come  to  feel  disgust  for  what  now  pleases  us,  and  find  happi¬ 
ness  in  what  now  fills  us  with  horror.  His  every  word  takes 
for  granted  this  total  renovation  of  the  human  spirit:  He  fear¬ 
lessly  contradicts  our  most  ordinary  inclinations  and  the  deep¬ 
est  of  our  instincts.  He  praises  what  every  one  avoids.  He 
condemns  what  all  men  seek.  He  not  only  gives  the  lie  to 
what  men  teach  (often  very  different  from  what  they  really 
think  and  do),  but  He  contradicts  what  they  actually  think 
and  do  every  day. 

Jesus  does  not  believe  in  the  perfection  of  the  natural  soul, 
of  the  original  soul.  He  believes  in  its  future  perfection,  only 
to  be  reached  by  a  complete  overturning  of  its  present  nature. 
His  task  is  the  reform  of  man;  more  than  that,  the  making- 
over  of  man.  With  Him  begins  the  new  race;  He  is  the  model, 
the  arch-type,  the  Adam  of  humanity  remodeled  and  recast. 
Socrates  tried  to  reform  the  mind,  Moses  the  law,  others  went 
no  further  than  altering  a  ritual,  a  code,  a  system,  a  science; 
but  Jesus  did  not  aim  at  changing  one  part  of  man  but  the 
whole  man  from  top  to  bottom,  changing  the  inner  man  who  is 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


109 


the  motive-power  and  origin  of  all  the  facts  and  the  words  of 
the  world.  Therefore  we  need  not  expect  Him  to  compromise 
or  to  wheedle.  He  will  make  no  concessions  to  evil  and  im¬ 
perfect  nature;  He  will  not  find  specious  reasons  to  justify  it 
as  the  philosophers  do.  You  cannot  serve  Jesus  and  Nature. 
He  who  stands  with  Jesus  is  against  the  old  animal  nature  and 
is  working  for  the  higher  nature  which  must  conquer  it. 
Everything  else  is  idle  talk,  dust  and  ashes. 

Nothing  is  miore  common  among  men  than  the  thirst  for 
riches.  To  heap  up  money  by  any  means,  even  the  most  in¬ 
famous,  has  always  seemed  the  sweetest  and  most  respectable 
of  occupations.  But  he  who  wishes  to  come  with  me,  said 
Jesus,  must  go  and  sell  that  which  he  has  and  give  it  to  the 
poor  and  he  shall  have  treasures  in  Heaven.  Poverty  is  the 
first  requisite  for  the  citizenship  of  the  Kingdom. 

All  men  anxiously  take  thought  for  the  morrow.  They  are 
always  afraid  lest  the  ground  give  way  under  their  feet,  lest 
there  may  not  be  enough  bread  to  last  to  the  next  harvest. 
They  fear  that  they  will  not  have  enough  clothes  to  cover  their 
bodies  and  the  bodies  of  their  children.  But  Jesus  teaches  us, 
^Take  therefore  no  thought  for  the  morrow:  sufficient  unto 
the  day  is  the  evil  thereof.” 

Every  man  would  like  to  stand  first  even  among  his  equals. 
He  wishes  to  be  superior  to  those  who  surround  him,  to  com¬ 
mand,  to  dominate,  to  seem  greater,  richer,  handsomer,  wiser. 
The  whole  history  of  men  is  only  the  terror  of  standing  second  ; 
but  Jesus  teaches  us,  ‘‘And  whosoever  of  you  will  be  the  chief- 
est  shall  be  servant  of  all.”  The  greatest  is  the  smallest,  the 
most  powerful  shall  serve  the  weakest,  he  who  exalts  himself 
shall  be  humbled,  he  who  humbles  himself  shall  be  exalted. 

Vanity  is  another  universal  curse  of  men.  It  poisons  even 
their  good  actions,  because  nearly  always  they  perform  those 
insignificant  good  actions  so  that  they  may  be  seen.  They  do 
evil  secretly  and  good  openly.  Jesus  commands  us  to  do  just 
the  opposite.  “But  when  thou  doest  alms,  let  not  thy  left  hand 
know  what  thy  right  hand  doeth;  .  .  .  And  when  thou  pray- 
est,  thou  shalt  not  be  as  the  hypocrites  are:  for  they  love  to 
pray  standing  in  the  synagogues  and  in  the  corners  of  the 


no 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


streets,  that  they  may  be  seen  of  men.  .  .  .  But  thou,  when 
thou  prayest,  enter  into  thy  closet.  .  .  .  Moreover  when  ye 
fast,  be  not,  as  the  hypocrites,  of  a  sad  countenance:  for  they 
disguise  their  faces,  that  they  may  appear  to  fast.  .  .  .  But 
thou,  when  thou  fastest,  anoint  thine  head,  and  wash  thy  face.” 

The  instinct  of  self-preservation  is  the  strongest  of  all  those 
which  dominate  us.  No  infamy,  cruelty  or  cowardice  is  too 
much  for  us  to  pay  for  the  safety  of  this  handful  of  animated 
dust.  But  Jesus  tells  us:  “For  whosoever  will  save  his  life 
shall  lose  it:  but  whosoever  will  lose  his  life  for  my  sake  the 
same  shall  save  it.”  For  what  we  call  life  is  not  true  life  and 
he  who  gives  up  his  soul  ruins  also  the  flesh  which  houses  it. 

Every  one  of  us  has  a  hankering  to  judge  his  fellows.  To 
sit  in  judgment  makes  us  feel  that  we  are  above  those  judged, 
better,  more  righteous,  innocent.  To  accuse  others  is  like  say¬ 
ing,  “IFe  are  not  thus.”  As  a  matter  of  fact  it  is  always  the 
hunchbacks  who  first  cry  out  on  those  whose  shoulders  are  a 
little  bent.  But  Jesus  says,  “Judge  not  that  ye  be  not 
judged,  condemn  not  and  ye  shall  not  be  condemned,  forgive 
and  ye  shall  be  forgiven.” 

Every  man  boasts  of  being  really  manly,  that  is,  a  grave, 
mature,  wise,  substantial,  worthy  person,  who  understands  the 
nature  of  things  and  who  can  reason  and  have  an  opinion  on 
all  subjects.  A  speech  that  is  too  sincere  is  said  to  be  childish; 
a  simple  person  is  scornfully  called  childish.  But  when  the 
disciples  asked  Him  who  is  the  greatest  in  the  Kingdom  of 
Heaven,  Jesus  answered,  “Verily  I  say  unto  you,  Whosoever 
shall  not  receive  the  Kingdom  of  God  as  a  little  child  shall  in 
no  wise  enter  therein.” 

The  serious-minded  man,  the  devout,  the  pure,  the  Pharisee, 
avoids  if  possible  the  company  of  sinners,  of  the  fallen,  of  the 
defiled,  and  receives  as  equals  at  his  table  only  the  righteous. 
But  Jesus  tirelessly  announces  that  He  has  come  to  seek  for 
sinners  and  not  for  the  righteous,  the  bad  and  not  the  good, 
and  He  feels  no  shame  in  sitting  down  to  dinner  in  the  house  of 
the  publican,  where  a  prostitute  anoints  his  feet.  The  truly 
pure  man  cannot  be  corrupted  by  the  corrupt,  and  does  not  feel 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


III 


that  for  fear  of  soiling  his  garments  he  needs  leave  them  to  die 
in  their  own  vileness. 

The  avarice  of  men  is  so  great  that  every  one  tries  to  take 
as  much  as  he  can  from  others  and  to  give  back  as  little. 
Every  one  seeks  to  possess;  praises  of  generosity  are  only  an 
attempt  to  cover  professional  beggary  with  a  decent  mask;  but 
Jesus  affirms,  “It  is  better  to  give  than  to  receive.”  • 

All  of  us  hate  most  of  the  people  we  know.  We  hate  them 
because  they  have  more  than  we,  because  they  will  not  give 
us  all  we  would  like  to  have,  because  they  do  not  pay  enough 
attention  to  us,  because  they  are  different  from  us;  in  a  word, 
because  they  exist.  We  even  go  so  far  as  to  hate  our  friends, 
even  our  benefactors.  And  Jesus  commands  us  to  love  men, 
to  love  them  all,  to  love  even  those  who  hate  us. 

No  one  who  disobeys  this  command  can  call  himself  a  Chris¬ 
tian;  though  he  is  on  the  point  of  death  if  he  does  not  love  his 
slayer,  he  has  no  right  to  call  himself  a  Christian. 

Love  for  ourselves,  the  origin  of  our  hatred  for  others  in¬ 
cludes  all  other  tendencies  and  passions.  He  who  conquers 
self-love,  and  the  hatred  toward  others,  is  already  entirely 
transformed;  the  rest  flows  from  this  as  a  natural  consequence. 
Hatred  toward  oneself  and  love  for  enemies  is  the  beginning 
and  end  of  Christianity.  The  greatest  victory  over  the  fierce, 
blind,  brutal  man  of  antiquity  is  this  and  nothing  else.  Men 
cannot  be  born  again  into  the  happiness  of  peace  until  they 
love  those  who  have  offended  against  them.  To  love  your  ene¬ 
mies  is  the  only  way  to  leave  not  an  enemy  on  earth. 

BEFORE  LOVE 

Those  who  refuse  Christ  have  many  easily  understandable 
reasons  for  not  accepting  Him:  they  would  need  to  renounce 
their  old  personalities  and  they  cannot  see  that  they  would 
gain  much  by  this  renunciation;  and  they  are  afraid  of  losing 
the  dusty  rubbish  which  seems  magnificence  to  them.  People 
who  deny  Christ  as  an  excuse  for  not  following  His  teachings 
have  justified  themselves  of  late  by  another  reason,  a  learned 


II2 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


reason:  they  claim  that  He  said  nothing  new.  His  words  can 
be  found  in  the  Orient  and  in  the  Occident  centuries  earlier. 
Either  He  stole  them,  or  plagiarized  unconsciously.  If  He  said 
nothing  new,  He  is  not  great;  if  He  is  not  great,  there  is  no 
need  to  listen  to  Him.  Let  the  ignorant  admire  Him,  the 
stupid  obey  Him,  the  foolish  respect  Him! 

However,  these  experts  in  the  genealogy  of  ideas  do 
not  say  whether  the  ideals  of  Jesus,  let  them  be  new  or  old, 
should  be  accepted  or  rejected;  they  do  not  dare  to  pretend 
that  Christ  did  nothing  of  value  when  He  consecrated  by  His 
death  a  great  truth,  a  forgotten,  unused  truth.  They  do  not 
look  carefully  to  see  whether  there  is  a  real  identity  of  sense 
and  of  spirit  between  the  ideas  of  Jesus  and  those  other  older 
ideas,  or  whether  there  is  merely  a  simple  assonance  and  a  dis¬ 
tant  verbal  resemblance.  And  in  the  meantime,  in  order  to 
avoid  being  misled  in  that  matter,  they  reject  Christ’s  law 
and  that  of  the  philosophers  who,  they  pretend,  were  Christ’s 
teachers,  and  they  continue  tranquilly  to  lead  their  filthy  lives 
as  if  the  Gospels  had  not  been  addressed  to  them  as  to  other 
men. 

After  the  promulgation  of  the  old  Law  there  was  amity  be¬ 
tween  blood  kin;  and  the  citizens  of  the  same  city  bore  with 
each  other  and  did  one  another  no  harm;  but  for  strangers, 
if  they  were  not  guests,  there  was  only  hatred  and  extermina¬ 
tion.  Inside  the  family  a  little  love;  inside  the  city  an  approxi¬ 
mate  justice;  outside  the  walls  and  the  frontiers  inextinguish¬ 
able  hatred.  Centuries  later  voices  were  heard  which  asked 
a  little  love  also  for  the  neighbor,  for  those  who  were  not  of 
the  same  household  but  of  the  same  nation,  which  asked  for  a 
little  justice  even  for  strangers,  even  for  enemies.  This  would 
have  been  a  wonderful  step  forward;  but  these  voices — they 
were  so  few,  so  weak,  so  distant — were  not  heard,  or,  if  heard, 
were  not  heeded. 

Four  cénturies  before  Christ  a  wise  man  of  China,  M’-Ti, 
wrote  a  whole  book,  the  Kie-Siang-Ngai,  to  say  that  men 
should  love  each  other.  He  wrote,  ^The  wise  man  who  wants 
to  improve  the  world  can  improve  it  only  if  he  knows  with 
certainty  the  origin  of  disorders;  if  he  does  not  know  that,  he 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST  113 

cannot  improve  it.  .  .  .  Whence  come  disorders?  They 
spring  up  because  men  do  not  love  each  other.  Workmen  and 
children  have  no  filial  feeling  for  their  employers  and  parents. 
Children  love  themselves  but  do  not  love  their  parents;  they 
cheat  their  parents  for  their  own  purposes.  Younger  brothers 
love  themselves  but  do  not  love  their  older  brothers;  subjects 
love  themselves  but  do  not  love  their  princes;  the  father  has  no 
indulgence  for  the  son,  the  older  brother  for  the  younger 
brother,  the  prince  for  his  subjects.  The  father  loves  himself 
and  does  not  love  his  son;  he  wrongs  his  son  to  his  own  ad¬ 
vantage  .  .  .  thus,  everywhere  brigands  love  their  own  homes 
and  not  their  neighbors’  homes,  and  for  this  they  sack  other 
men’s  houses  to  fill  their  own.  Thieves  love  their  own  bodies 
and  do  not  love  men,  wherefore  they  steal  from  men  for  the 
good  of  their  own  bodies.  If  thieves  considered  the  bodies  of 
other  men  as  they  do  their  own,  who  would  rob?  The  thieves 
would  stay  their  hands.  ...  If  universal  mutual  love  should 
come,  countries  would  not  resort  to  blows,  families  would  not 
be  troubled,  thieves  would  hold  their  hands,  princes,  subjects, 
fathers  and  sons  would  be  respectful  and  indulgent  and  the 
world  would  be  better.” 

For  M’-Ti,  love,  or,  to  translate  it  more  exactly,  benevo¬ 
lence  composed  of  respect  and  indulgence,  is  the  mortar  to 
hold  citizens  and  the  state  more  closely  united.  It  is  a  remedy 
against  the  evils  of  life-in-common,  a  social  panacea. 

^^Answer  insults  with  courtesy,”  suggests  timidly  the  mys¬ 
terious  Lao-Tse;  but  courtesy  is  prudence  or  mildness,  not 
love.  His  contemporary,  old  Confucius,  according  to  his  dis¬ 
ciple  Thseng-Tse,  taught  a  doctrine  which  consisted  in  up¬ 
rightness  of  heart,  and  in  loving  one’s  neighbor  as  oneself 
(neighbor  and  not  the  distant  one,  the  stranger,  the  enemy) 
as  much  as  ourselves  and  not  more  than  ourselves!  Confucius 
preached  filial  love  and  general  benevolence,  necessary  to  the 
good  ordering  of  kingdoms,  but  he  did  not  dream  of  condemn¬ 
ing  hate.  In  the  same  Lun-Yu,  where  the  words  of  Thseng- 
Tse  are  read,  we  find  these  other  words,  taken  from  the  oldest 
Confucian  text,  the  Ta-Hio:  ‘‘Only  the  just  and  human  man  is 
capable  of  justly  loving  and  hating  men.” 


114 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


His  contemporary  Gautama  recommends  love  for  men,  for 
all  men,  even  the  most  wretched  and  ’despised.  And  the  same 
love  is  to  be  felt  for  animals,  for  the  smallest  among  animals, 
for  all  living  beings.  In  Buddhism  love  of  man  for  man  is 
only  a  salutary  exercise  for  the  total  eradication  of  self-love, 
first  and  strongest  prop  of  life.  Buddha  wishes  to  suppress 
suffering;  and  to  suppress  suffering  he  sees  no  other  way  than 
to  drown  personal  souls  and  universal  souls  in  Nirvana, — in 
nothingness.  The  Buddhist  does  not  love  his  brother  out  of 
love  for  his  brother,  but  out  of  self-love, — that  is,  to  avoid 
suffering,  to  overcome  egotism,  to  approach  absorption  in  the 
stream  of  life.  His  universal  love  is  cold  and  self-seeking, 
egotistical,  a  form  of  indifference,  stoical  in  grief  as  in  joy. 

In  Eg5^t  every  dead  body  took  with  it  into  the  tomb  a 
copy  of  the  book  of  the  dead,  an  anticipatory  apology  of  the 
soul  before  the  tribunal  of  Osiris.  The  dead  praises  himself: 
he  has  been  righteous  and  has  given  to  the  needy,  “I  have 
starved  no  one!  I  have  made  no  one  weep  !  I  have  not  killed  ! 
I  have  not  commanded  treacherous  murder!  I  have  defrauded 
no  one!  I  have  given  bread  to  the  hungry,  water  to  the 
thirsty,  clothes  to  the  naked,  a  boat  to  the  traveler  halted  on 
his  journey,  sacrifices  to  the  gods,  funeral  banquets  to  the 
dead.”  This  is  righteousness  and  these  are  works  of  mercy 
(had  they  really  as  a  matter  of  fact  done  all  that  they 
claimed?)  but  we  find  no  love  here,  much  less  love  for  enemies. 
If  we  wish  to  know  how  the  Egyptians  treated  their  enemies 
let  us  read  an  inscription  of  the  great  king,  Phiops  I  Miriri: 
‘This  army  went  in  peace;  it  entered  as  it  pleased  into  the 
country  of  the  Hirushaitu.  This  army  went  in  peace;  it  laid 
waste  the  country  of  the  Hirushaitu.  This  army  went  in 
peace;  they  cut  down  all  their  fig  trees  and  their  grape  vines. 
This  army  went  in  peace;  they  set  on  fire  all  their  houses. 
This  army  went  in  peace;  it  massacred  their  soldiers  by 
myriads.  This  army  went  in  peace;  it  carried  away  their 
men,  women  and  children  in  great  numbers,  and  for  this,  more 
than  for  any  other  thing,  did  his  Holiness  rejoice.” 

Zarathushtra  also  leaves  a  law  for  the  Iranians.  This  law 
commands  the  faithful  of  Ahura  Mazda  to  be  kind  to  their 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


115 

companions  in  the  faith.  They  are  to  give  clothes  to  the  naked 
and  they  are  not  to  refuse  bread  to  the  hungry  working  man. 
We  are  still  concerned  with  material  charity  towards  those  who 
belong  to  us,  who  serve  us,  who  are  our  neighbors.  There  is 
no  talk  of  love. 

It  has  been  said  that  Jesus  added  nothing  to  the  Mosaic  law, 
and  only  repeated  the  old  Commandments.  ^Tye  for  eye, 
tooth  for  tooth,  hand  for  hand,  foot  for  foot.  Burning  for  burn¬ 
ing,  wound  for  wound,  stripe  for  stripe.”  Thus  speaks  Moses 
in  Deuteronomy,  “And  thou  shalt  consume  all  the  people  which 
the  Lord  thy  God  shall  deliver  thee;  thine  eye  shalt  have  no 
pity  upon  them.”  Thus  it  is  written  in  Deuteronomy:  a  step 
further  and  we  have  reached  Love,  “Also  thou  shalt  not  op¬ 
press  a  stranger:  for  ye  know  the  heart  of  a  stranger,  seeing  ye 
were  strangers  in  the  land  of  Egypt.”  This  is  a  beginning:  do 
no  wrong  to  strangers  in  memory  of  the  time  when  you 
also  were  a  stranger;  but  the  stranger  who  lives  with  us 
is  not  an  enemy,  and  to  refrain  from  wronging  him,  does  not 
mean  to  do  good  to  him.  Exodus  commands  not  to  wrong  him. 
Leviticus  is  more  generous,  “And  if  a  stranger  sojourn  with 
thee  in  your  land  ye  shalt  not  vex  him.  But  the  stranger  that 
dwelleth  with  you  shall  be  unto  you  as  one  born  among  you, 
and  thou  shalt  love  him  as  thyself.  .  .  .”  Always  the  foreigner 
who  lives  with  you  and  has  become  your  fellow-citizen,  hence 
like  one  of  your  friends.  In  the  same  book  we  read,  “Thou 
shalt  not  avenge,  nor  bear  any  grudge  against  the  children  of 
thy  people.”  This  is  another  step  forward.  Do  no  harm  to 
him  who  offends  you,  provided  that  he  is  of  your  own  nation.' 
We  have  come,  if  not  to  pardon,  to  generous  forgetfulness,  al¬ 
though  only  for  neighbors. 

“Thou  shalt  love  thy  neighbor  as  thyself.”  Neighbor,  fel¬ 
low-citizen,  the  man  who  is  your  racial  brother,  who  can  help 
you.  But  your  enemy?  There  is  also  an  admonition  about 
the  treatment  of  your  enemy:  “If  thou  meet  thine  enemy’s  ox 
or  his  ass  going  astray,  thou  shalt  surely  bring  it  back  to  him 
again.  If  you  see  the  ass  of  him  that  hateth  thee  lying  under 
his  burden,  and  wouldest  forbear  to  help  him,  thou  shalt  surely 
help  with  him.”  Oh,  great  kindness  of  Jewish  antiquity!  It 


ii6 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


would  be  so  sweet  to  drive  the  ass  further,  so  that  his  master 
would  have  more  trouble  in  finding  him:  and  when  you  see  the 
ass  fallen  down  under  his  pack-saddle,  how  amusing  it  would 
be  to  smile  in  your  beard  and  pass  on;  but  the  heart  of  the  old 
Jew  was  not  hardened  to  this  degree:  an  ass  was  too  precious 
in  those  times  and  those  conditions:  no  one  could  live  without 
at  least  one  ass  in  the  stable,  and  every  one  had  an  ass.  To¬ 
day  yours  has  escaped  and  to-morrow  mine  may  run  away. 
Do  not  let  us  avenge  ourselves  on  our  animals  even  if  the 
master  is  a  brute.  Because  if  I  am  that  man’s  enemy  he  is  my 
enemy.  Let  us  set  him  a  good  example,  an  example  by  which 
we  hope  he  will  profit;  let  us  lend  him  a  hand  to  readjust  the 
pack-saddle  of  his  ass;  let  us  do  to  others  what  we  hope  others 
will  do  to  us,  and  above  the  crupper  and  the  ears  of  the  ass  let 
us,  as  merciful  men,  lay  aside  every  evil  thought. 

This  is  rather  too  little:  the  old  Jew  has  already  made  a  tre¬ 
mendous  effort  in  caring  for  the  animals  of  his  enemy,  but  the 
Psalms,  to  make  up  for  it,  resound  at  every  step  with  outcries 
against  enemies  and  with  violent  demands  to  the  Lord  to 
persecute  and  destroy  them.  “As  for  the  head  of  those  that 
compass  me  about,  let  the  mischief  of  their  own  lips  cover 
them;  let  burning  coals  fall  upon  them  ...  let  them  be  cast 
into  the  fire;  into  deep  pits,  that  they  rise  not  up  again.  Let 
destruction  come  upon  him  unawares;  and  let  his  net  that  he 
hath  hid  catch  himself  ;  into  that  very  destruction  let  him  fall. 
And  my  soul  shall  be  joyful  in  the  Lord!” 

In  such  a  world  it  is  natural  that  Saul  should  be  astounded 
that  he  was  not  killed  by  his  enemy  David,  and  that  Job  should 
boast  of  not  having  exulted  in  the  misfortunes  of  an  enemy. 
Only  in  the  later  proverbs  do  we  find  words  which  forecast 
Jesus’  saying,  “Say  not  thou,  I  will  recompense  evil;  but  wait 
on  the  Lord,  and  he  shall  save  thee.”  The  enemy  is  to  be  pun¬ 
ished,  but  by  hands  more  powerful  than  thine.  Then  the 
anonymous  moralist  of  the  Old  Testament  comes  finally  to 
charity,  “If  thine  enemy  be  hungry,  give  him  bread  to  eat;  and 
if  he  be  thirsty,  give  him  water  to  drink.”  This  is  progress: 
pity  does  not  stop  with  the  ox,  but  extends  itself  also  to  the 
owner.  But  the  marvels  of  love  of  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount 


r 

LIFE  OF  CHRIST  117 

I 

cannot  have  sprung  from  these  timid  maxims  hidden  away  in 
a  corner  of  the  Scriptures. 

But  there  is,  they  say,  Hillel,  the  Rabbi  Hillel,  the  great 
Hillel,  master  of  Gamaliel,  Hillel  Hababli  or  the  Babylonian. 
I  This  celebrated  Pharisee  lived  a  little  before  Jesus  and  taught, 
i  they  say,  the  same  things  which  Jesus  afterwards  taught.  He 
I  was  a  liberal  Judean,  a  rational  Pharisee,  an  intelligent  rabbi; 
but  was  he  therefore  a  Christian?  It  is  true  that  he  said  these 
words,  “Do  not  do  unto  others  what  is  displeasing  to  you;  this 
is  the  whole  Law,  the  rest  is  only  explanation  of  it.”  These  are 
fine  words  for  a  master  of  the  old  law,  but  how  far  away  they 
are  from  those  of  the  overturner  of  the  ancient  law!  This  is 

L 

^  a  negative  command,  “Do  not  do.”  He  does  not  say,  “Do 

I  good  to  those  who  wrong  you,”  but  “Do  not  do  to  others  (and 
these  others  are  certainly  companions,  fellow-citizens,  mem¬ 
bers  of  the  family  and  friends)  what  you  feel  to  be  evil.”  He 

!  mildly  forbids  harmfulness;  he  gives  no  absolute  command  to 
love.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  the  descendants  of  Hillel  were  those 
Talmudists  who  mired  the  law  in  the  great  swamp  of  casuistry. 
The  descendants  of  Jesus  were  the  martyrs  who  blessed  their 
torturers. 

And  Philo,  the  Alexandrian  Jew,  the  Platonizing  metaphysi¬ 
cian,  some  twenty  years  older  than  Jesus,  left  a  treatise  on  the 
love  of  men;  but  Philo,  with  all  his  talents  and  with  all  his 
mystical  and  Messianic  speculations,  is,  like  Hillel,  a  theorist, 
a  man  of  pens  and  ink-pots,  of  learning,  of  books,  of  systems, 
of  abstractions,  of  classifications.  His  dialectic  strategy  brings 
into  the  field  thousands  of  words  in  parade  formation,  but  he 
is  never  inspired  to  pronounce  the  one  word  that  burns  up  in 
j  an  instant  all  the  past,  the  one  word  which  brings  hearts  to- 
gether.  He  has  talked  of  love  more  than  Christ,  but  he  could 

II  never  have  said,  and  he  would  not  have  been  able  to  under¬ 
stand,  what  Christ  said  to  his  ignorant  friends  on  the  Mount. 

:  ACHILLES  AND  PRIAM 

Is  it  possible  that  in  Greece,  that  well-spring  from  whence  all 
^  have  drunk,  there  was  no  love  for  enemies?  Would-be  modern 


ii8 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


pagans,  enemies  of  the  ‘‘Palestine  superstition,”  claim  that 
Greek  thought  has  everything  in  it.  In  the  spiritual  life  of  the 
Occident,  Greece  is  like  China  to  the  East,  mother  of  all  in¬ 
vention. 

In  the  Ajax  of  Sophocles,  famous  Odysseus  is  moved  to  pity 
at  the  sight  of  a  fallen  enemy  reduced  to  misery.  In  vain 
Athena  herself,  Hellenic  wisdom  personified  in  the  sacred  owl, 
reminds  him  that  “the  most  delightful  mirth  is  to  laugh  at  one’s 
enemies.”  Ulysses  is  not  convinced.  “I  pity  him,  although  he 
is  my  enemy,  because  I  see  him  so  unfortunate,  bound  to  an 
evil  destiny;  and  looking  at  him,  I  think  of  myself.  Because  I 
see  we  are  not  other  than  ghosts,  and  unsubstantial  shadows, 
all  we  who  live.  ...  It  is  not  right  to  do  evil  to  a  dying  man 
even  if  you  hate  him.”  It  seems  to  me  that  we  are  here  still 
very  far  away  from  love.  Wily  Ulysses  is  not  wily  enough  to 
conceal  the  motive  of  his  unnatural  softening.  He  pities  his 
enemy  because  he  thinks  of  himself,  remembers  that  evil  could 
happen  also  to  him,  and  he  pardons  his  enemy  only  because  he 
sees  him  dying  and  unfortunate. 

A  wiser  man  than  Ulysses,  the  son  of  Sophroniscus,  the  stone 
cutter,  asked  himself,  among  many  other  questions,  how 
the  righteous  man  ought  to  treat  his  enemies.  But  reading  the 
texts,  we  discover  with  astonishment  two  Socrates,  of  different 
opinions.  The  Socrates  of  the  Memorabilia  frankly  accepts 
the  common  feeling.  Friends  are  to  be  treated  well  and  ene¬ 
mies  ill,  and  thus  it  is  better  to  anticipate  one’s  enemies  in  do¬ 
ing  ill:  “The  man  most  greatly  to  be  praised,”  he  says  to 
Cherocrate,  “is  he  who  anticipates  his  enemies  in  hurtfulness 
and  his  friends  in  helpfulness.”  But  Plato’s  Socrates  does  not 
accept  the  common  opinion.  He  says  to  Crito,  “Injustice 
should  be  rendered  to  no  one  in  return  for  injustice;  nor  evil 
for  evil  whatever  has  been  the  injury  that  thou  hast  received.” 
And  he  affirms  the  same  principle  in  the  Republic,  adding  in 
support  that  the  bad  are  not  bettered  by  revenge.  But  the 
ruling  idea  in  Socrates’  head  is  the  thought  of  justice,  not  the 
feeling  of  love.  In  no  case  should  the  righteous  man  do  evil, 
out  of  self-respect  (notice  this),  not  out  of  affection  towards 
his  enemy.  The  bad  man  must  punish  himself,  otherwise  the 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


119 

judges  in  the  lower  world  will  punish  him  after  death.  Aris¬ 
totle,  the  disciple  of  Plato,  turns  tranquilly  back  to  the  old 
idea:  ‘‘Not  to  resent  offenses,”  he  says  in  the  Ethics  to  Nico- 
machus,  “is  the  mark  of  a  base  and  slavish  man.” 

In  Greece,  therefore,  there  is  little  to  the  purpose  for  those 
who  are  looking  for  precedents  for  Christianity. 

But  in  order  to  make  us  believe  that  Christianity  existed  be¬ 
fore  Christ,  those  who  deny  Jesus,  have  found  a  rival  to  Jesus 
even  in  Rome,  in  the  very  palace  of  the  Caesars.  Seneca,  the 
director  of  conscience  to  young  gentlemen,  leader  of  the  fash- 
jionable  cult  of  reformed  stoicism;  the  abstract  aristocrat  never 

I  moved  by  the  troubles  of  the  poor;  the  proprietor  who  despises 
riches,  and  clutches  them  tightly,  who  affirms  the  equality  be¬ 
tween  free  and  slave,  and  owns  slaves;  the  talented  anatomist 
of  scruples,  of  evils,  of  active  vices,  and  complacent  virtues; 
he  who  canalized  the  old  doctrine  of  Chrisippus,  dull  but  clear, 
towards  the  estuary  of  preciosity;  moral  Seneca  they  claim  was 
a  Christian  without  knowing  it  during  Christ’s  very  lifetime. 
Thumbing  over  his  works  (many  were  written  after  the 
death  of  Christ,  for  Seneca  waited  till  he  was  sixty-five  years 
old  before  committing  suicide),  they  have  found  that  “the 
I  wise  man  does  not  avenge  but  forgets  affronts,”  and  that 
I  “to  imitate  the  Gods  we  should  do  good  also  to  the  ungrateful 
because  the  sun  shines  equally  on  the  wicked  and  the  seas  bear 
up  the  pirate  ship,”  and  finally  that  “We  must  succor  our  ene- 
Jmies  with  a  friendly  hand.”  But  the  “forgetting”  of  the  philo- 
^sopher  is  not  “forgiveness”;  and  “succor”  can  be  philanthropy 
|but  is  not  love.  The  imperious,  the  stoic,  the  Pharisee;  the 
"philosopher  proud  of  his  philosophy,  the  righteous  man  com- 
Siplacent  over  his  righteousness,  can  despise  the  affronts  of  the 
small,  the  pricks  of  enemies,  and  through  pride  of  magnanim¬ 
ity  and  to  win  admiration  can  deign  to  give  a  loaf  to  a  hungry 
enemy  in  order  to  humiliate  him  more  harshly  from  the  heights 
of  perfection.  But  that  bread  was  prepared  with  the  leaven  of 
vanity  and  that  would-be  friendly  hand  could  never  have 
dried  a  tear  or  dressed  a  wound. 

The  world  of  antiquity  did  not  know  love.  It  knew  passion 
for  a  woman,  friendship  for  a  friend,  justice  for  the  citizen, 


120 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


hospitality  for  the  foreigner;  but  it  did  not  know  love.  Zeus 
protected  pilgrims  and  strangers;  he  who  knocked  at  the 
Grecian  door  was  not  denied  meat,  a  cup  of  wine,  and  a  bed. 
The  poor  were  to  be  covered,  the  weak  helped,  the  mourning 
consoled  with  fair  words;  but  the  men  of  antiquity  did  not 
know  love,  love  that  suffers,  that  shares  another’s  sorrow, 
love  for  all  who  suffer  and  are  neglected,  love  for  the  poor,  the 
lowly,  the  outlawed,  the  maligned,  the  downtrodden,  the 
abandoned;  love  for  all,  love  which  knows  no  difference  be¬ 
tween  fellow-citizens  and  strangers,  between  fair  and  foul,  be¬ 
tween  criminal  and  philosopher,  between  brother  and  enemy. 

In  the  last  canto  of  the  Iliad  we  see  an  old  man,  a  mourner, 
a  father  who  kisses  the  hand  of  his  most  terrible  enemy,  of  the 
man  who  has  killed  his  sons,  who  has  just  killed  his  most  loved 
son.  Priam,  the  old  king,  head  of  the  rich,  ruined  city,  father  i 
of  fifty  sons,  kneels  at  the  feet  of  Achilles,  the  greatest  hero,  ^ 
and  the  most  unhappy  among  the  Greeks,  son  of  the  Sea-God¬ 
dess,  avenger  of  Patroclus,  slayer  of  Hector.  The  white  head 
of  the  kneeling  old  man  is  bowed  before  the'  proud  youth  of 
the  victor,  and  Priam  mourns  for  the  slain,  strongest,  fairest, 
most  loved  of  all  his  fifty  sons,  and  kisses  the  hand  of  the 
slayer!  ^Thou  also,”  he  says,  ^^hast  a  grey-haired,  failing,  de¬ 
fenseless,  far-distant  father.  In  the  name  of  thy  father’s  love, 
give  me  back  at  least  the  dead  body  of  my  son.” 

Achilles,  the  fierce,  the  wild,  the  slaughterer,  puts  the  sup¬ 
pliant  gently  on  one  side  and  begins  to  weep;  and  both  of 
them,  the  two  enemies,  the  conqueror  and  the  conquered,  the 
father  bereft  of  his  son  and  the  son  who  will  never  see  his 
father  again,  the-  white-haired  old  man  and  the  golden-haired 
youth  both  weep,  drawn  together  for  the  first  time  by  sorrow. 
The  others  round  about  gaze  at  them  silent  and  astounded  :  we 
ourselves  after  thirty  centuries  are  shaken  by  their  grief. 

But  in  the  kiss  of  Priam  there  is  no  pardon,  there  is  no  love. 
This  king  humbles  himself  to  obtain  a  difficult  and  unusual’i 
favor.  If  a  God  had  not  inspired  him  he  would  not  havej 
stirred  from  Ilium;  and  Achilles  does  not  weep  for  dead  Hec-[ 
tor,  for  weeping  Priam,  for  the  powerful  man  who  is  brought 
to  humble  himself,  for  the  enemy  who  is  brought  to  kiss  the 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


I2I 


hand  of  the  slayer.  He  weeps  over  his  lost  friend;  over 
Patrocles,  dearer  to  him  than  all  other  men;  over  Peleus,  left 
at  Phthia;  over  his  father,  whom  he  will  never  more  embrace, 
for  he  knows  that  his  young  days  are  numbered.  And  he  gives 
back  to  the  father  the  dead  body  of  his  son — that  body  which 
he  has  dragged  for  so  many  days  in  the  dust — because  it  is  the 
will  of  Zeus,  not  because  his  hunger  of  vengeance  is  stilled. 
Both  of  them  weep  for  themselves  ;  the  kiss  of  Priam  is  a  harsh 
necessity,  the  restitution  of  Achilles  is  obedience  to  the  Gods. 
In  the  noblest  heroic  world  of  antiquity  there  is  no  place  for 
that  love  which  destroys  hate  and  takes  the  place  of  hate,  for 
love  stronger  than  the  strength  of  hate,  more  ardent,  more  im¬ 
placable,  more  faithful,  for  love  which  is  not  forgetfulness  of 
wrong,  but  love  of  wrong,  because  wrong  is  a  misfortune  for 
him  who  commits  it  rather  than  for  him  who  suffers.  There 
is  no  place  for  love  for  enemies  in  the  world  of  antiquity. 

1  Jesus  was  the  first  to  speak  of  such  love,  to  conceive  of  such 
love.  This  love  was  not  known  till  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount. 

I  This  is  the  greatest  and  the  most  original  of  Jesus’  concep¬ 
tions.  Of  all  His  teachings  this  was  the  newest  to  men,  this 

^  is  still  His  greatest  innovation.  It  is  new  even  to  us,  new  be¬ 
cause  it  is  not  understood,  not  imitated,  not  obeyed;  infinitely 
eternal  like  truth. 

THOU  SHALT  LOVE 

“Ye  have  heard  that  it  hath  been  said.  Thou  shalt  love  thy 
neighbor  and  hate  thine  enemy.  But  I  say  unto  you.  Love  your 
enemies,  bless  them  that  curse  you,  do  good  to  them  that  hate 
you,  and  pray  for  them  which  despitefully  use  you  and  perse¬ 
cute  you;  That  ye  may  be  the  children  of  your  Father  which 
is  in  Heaven:  for  he  maketh  his  sun  to  rise  on  the  evil  and 
on  the  good,  and  sendeth  rain  on  the  just  and  on  the  unjust. 
For  if  ye  love  them  which  love  you,  v^hat  reward  have  ye?  do 
not  even  the  publicans  the  same?  And  if  ye  salute  your  breth¬ 
ren  only,  what  do  ye  more  than  others?  do  not  even  the  publi¬ 
cans  so?  Be  ye  therefore  perfect,  even  as  your  Father  which 
is  in  Heaven  is  perfect.”  A  few  bare,  plain  words!  But  they 


122 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


are  the  Magna  Charta  of  the  new  race,  of  the  third  race,  of 
men  not  yet  born.  The  first  race  was  that  of  the  animal  with¬ 
out  law,  and  its  name  was  War;  the  second  were  barbarians 
tamed  by  the  Law,  whose  highest  perfection  was  justice.  This 
is  the  race  living  now,  and  justice  has  not  yet  conquered  War, 
and  the  Law  has  not  yet  supplanted  animality.  The  third  is 
to  be  the  race  of  real  men,  not  only  upright  but  holy,  not  like 
beasts  but  like  God. 

Jesus  had  just  one  aim:  to  transform  men  from  beasts  to 
saints  by  means  of  love.  Circe,  the  enchantress,  the  Satanic 
consort  of  the  old  mythologies,  converted  heroes  into  beasts 
by  means  of  animal  pleasures.  Jesus  is  the  anti-Satan,  the 
anti-Circe,  He  who  saves  from  animality  by  a  force  more 
powerful  than  pleasure.  This  undertaking,  which  seems  hope¬ 
less  to  all  animals  barely  risen  above  animality  and  to  beings 
just  entering  upon  real  humanity,  must  be  based  on  the  imita¬ 
tion  of  God.  To  approximate  sanctity  one  must  look  toward 
divinity:  ‘Te  holy  because  God  is  holy.  Be  perfect  because 
God  is  perfect.’’ 

This  is  not  the  first  time  that  this  appeal  has  been 
made  to  the  heart  of  man.  Satan  said  in  the  Garden: 
‘Wou  will  be  as  gods.”  Jehovah  said  to  His  judges:  ^Te 
gods,  be  just  as  God  is  just.”  But  now  there  is  no  question  of 
being  wise  like  God,  nor  is  it  even  enough  to  be  just,  like  God. 
God  is  now  more  than  wisdom  and  justice.  With  Jesus,  He 
becomes  our  Father,  becomes  love.  His  earth  gives  bread  and 
flowers  even  to  the  homicide;  he  who  takes  His  name  in  vain 
sees  the  glorious  sun  every  morning,  the  same  sun  which  warms 
the  clasped  hands  of  the  laborer  praying  in  the  field.  A  true 
father  loves  the  son  who  turns  from  him  as  he  loves  the  son 
who  seeks  him  out;  a  father  cherishes  the  child  who  obeys 
him  in  his  house,  or  who  vomits  him  out  with  his  wine.  A  father 
can  be  saddened,  can  suffer,  can  mourn,  but  no  sinning  man  is 
capable  of  making  a  father  become  like  to  himself.  No  one 
can  induce  a  father  to  take  revenge. 

And  we  who  are  so  much  lower  than  God,  poor  finite 
creatures,  who  are  scarcely  capable  of  remembering  yesterday^ 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


123 


I  who  do  not  know  to-morrow,  we  unfortunate,  inferior  creatures, 
j  have  we  not  many  more  motives  to  feel  for  our  brothers  in 
I  wretchedness  what  God  feels  for  us?  God  is  the  supreme  sub- 
!  stance  of  our  ideal.  To  draw  away  from  Him,  not  to  be  as  we 
i  >pray  that  He  may  be  with  us,  is  this  not  to  draw  away  from 
]  our  unique  destination,  to  keep  perpetually  and  despairingly 
^  out  of  our  reach  that  happiness  for  which  we  are  created,  which 
i  we  believe  to  be  the  aim  of  our  lives,  imagined  by  us,  dreamed 
of  by  us,  longed-for,  invoked  and  followed  in  vain  through  all 
the  false  felicities  which  are  not  of  God?  ‘‘Let  us  be  Gods,” 
cries  Bossuet.  “Let  us  be  Gods.  He  permits  it,  that  we  may 
imitate  His  holiness.” 

Who  will  refuse  to  be  like  God?  Dii  estis.  Divinity  is  in 
I  us;  animality  hampers  and  constricts  it,  stunting  our  growth. 
I  Who  would  not  wish  to  be  God?  Oh,  men,  are  you  in  very 
j  truth  content  to  be  only  men?  Men  as  you  are  to-day,  half- 
men,  half-beasts?  Centaurs  without  robustness,  sirens  without 
I  sweetness,  demons  with  fauns’  muzzles  and  goats’  feet?  Are 
you  so  satisfied  with  your  bastard  and  imperfect  humanity, 
with  your  animality  scarcely  held  in  leash,  taking  no  step  to 
win  holiness  save  to  desire  it?  Does  it  seem  to  you  that  the 
life  of  men  as  it  has  been  in  the  past,  as  it  is  to-day,  is  so  dear, 
so  happy,  so  contented  that  there  should  be  no  effort  to  make  it 
othervdse,  entirely  different,  the  opposite  of  what  it  is,  more 
like  that  which  for  thousands  of  years  we  have  imagined  in 
,  the  future  and  in  Heaven?  Is  it  not  possible  to  make  another 
1  life  out  of  this  life,  to  change  this  world  to  a  world  more  divine, 
at  last  to  bring  down  Heaven  and  the  laws  of  Heaven  upon 
i;i  earth? 

This  new  life,  this  earthly  but  celestial  world  is  the  Kingdom 
of  Heaven,  and  to  bring  about  the  Kingdom  we  must  trans- 
figure  and  deify  ourselves;  become  like  God,  imitate  God.  The 
l!  secret  of  the  imitation  of  God  is  love,  the  certain  way  of  the 
transfiguration  is  love,  love  of  man  for  man,  love  for  friend 
n  and  enemy.  If  this  love  is  impossible,  our  salvation  is  im- 
ji  possible.  If  it  is  repugnant,  it  is  a  sign  that  happiness  is  re- 
j  pugnant  to  us.  If  it  is  absurd,  our  hopes  of  redemption  are 


124 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


only  absurdity.  Common  sense  tells  us  that  to  love  our  ene¬ 
mies  is  insanity,  and  to  count  such  love  as  a  prerequisite  of  our 
salvation  seems  simple  madness.  Love  for  enemies  is  like 
hatred  for  ourselves;  hence  it  follows  that  we  can  only  earn 
beatitude  by  hating  ourselves. 

This  conclusion  should  alarm  no  one,  for  it  has  been  proved; 
all  the  experiments  have  been  tried.  It  is  not  true  that  there 
has  been  no  time  to  test  it.  For  thousands  of  years  we  have 
been  proving  and  proving  it,  over  and  over.  We  have  tried 
the  experiment  of  fierceness;  and  blood  answered  blood.  We 
have  tried  the  experiment  of  lust;  and  lust  has  left  in  the 
mouth  the  odor  of  corruption  and  a  fiercer  fever.  We  have 
forced  the  body  into  the  most  refined  and  perverse  pleasures 
and  found  ourselves  worn  out  and  heavy-hearted,  lying  upon 
filth.  We  have  tried  the  experiment  of  the  Law,  and  we  have 
not  obeyed  the  Law;  we  have  changed  it  and  disobeyed  it 
again,  and  Justice  has  not  satisfied  our  hearts.  We  have  tried 
the  experiment  of  intellectualism,  we  have  taken  the  census 
of  creation,  numbered  the  stars,  described  the  plants,  the  dead 
things  and  the  living  things,  we  have  bound  them  together 
with  the  thin  threads  of  abstract  ideas,  we  have  transfigured 
them  in  the  magic  clouds  of  metaphysics;  and  at  the  end  of 
all  this,  things  have  remained  the  same,  eternally  the  same; 
they  were  not  enough  for  us,  they  could  not  be  renewed; 
their  names  and  their  numbers  did  not  quiet  our  hunger,  and 
the  most  learned  men  ended  with  weary  confessions  of  igno¬ 
rance.  We  have  tried  the  experiment  of  art  and  our  feebleness 
has  brought  the  strongest  to  despair,  because  the  Absolute 
cannot  be  fixed  in  any  form;  the  Many  overflow  from  the  One; 
the  carefully  wrought  work  of  art  cannot  arrest  the  ephemeral. 
We  have  tried  the  experiment  of  wealth  and  have  found  our¬ 
selves  poorer;  the  experiment  of  force  and  have  come  to  our¬ 
selves,  weaker.  In  no  thing  has  our  soul  found  quiet.  We 
have  found  no  welcoming  shade,  where  our  bodies  can  lie  down 
and  be  at  rest;  and  our  hearts,  always  seeking,  always  disap¬ 
pointed,  are  older,  weaker,  and  emptier  because  in  nothing  have 
they  found  peace,  because  no  pleasure  has  brought  them  joy, 
no  conquest,  happiness. 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


125 


THE  LAST  EXPERIMENT 

Jesus  proposes  His  experiment,  the  only  remaining  possi¬ 
bility,  the  experiment  of  love,  that  experiment  which  no  one 
has  made,  which  few  have  even  attempted  (and  that  for 
only  a  few  moments  of  their  lives),  the  most  arduous,  the  most 
contrary  to  our  instincts  but  the  only  one  which  can  give  what 
it  promises. 

As  he  comes  from  the  hand  of  Nature,  Man  thinks  only  of 
himself,  loves  nothing  but  himself.  Little  by  little,  with  tre¬ 
mendous  but  slow  efforts,  he  succeeds  in  loving  for  a  while  his 
woman,  and  his  children,  in  tolerating  his  accomplices  in  the 
hunt,  in  assassination  and  in  war.  Very  rarely  is  he  able  to 
love  a  friend;  more  easily  he  hates  the  man  who  loves  him. 
He  does  not  dream  of  loving  the  man  who  hates  him. 

All  this  explains  why  Jesus  commands  us  to  love  our  enemies. 
To  make  over  the  entire  man,  to  create  a  new  man,  the  most 
tenacious  center  of  the  old  man  must  be  destroyed.  From  self- 
love  come  all  the  misfortunes,  massacres  and  miseries  of  the 
world.  To  tame  the  old  Adam  self-love  must  be  torn  out  of 
him,  and  in  its  place  must  be  put  the  love  most  opposed  to  his 
present  nature,  love  for  his  enemies.  The  total  transforma¬ 
tion  of  man  is  such  a  sublime  paradox  that  it  can  be  reached 
only  by  fantastic  means.  It  is  an  extraordinary  undertaking, 
wild  and  unnatural,  to  be  accomplished  only  with  an  extraor¬ 
dinary  exaltation,  opposed  to  Nature. 

Until  now  man  has  loved  himself  and  hated  those  who  hate 
him;  the  man  of  the  future,  the  inhabitant  of  the  Kingdom, 
must  hate  himself  and  love  those  who  hate  him.  To  love  one’s 
neighbor  as  one’s  self  is  an  insufficient  formula,  a  concession  to 
universal  egotism.  For  he  who  loves  himself  cannot  perfectly 
love  others,  and  finds  himself  perforce  in  conflict  with  others. 
Only  hatred  for  ourselves  is  sufficient.  If  we  love  ourselves, 
we  admire  ourselves,  we  flatter  ourselves  too  much.  To  over¬ 
come  this  blind  love,  we  need  to  see  our  nothingness,  our  base¬ 
ness,  our  infamy.  Hatred  of  ourselves  is  humility,  is  the  be¬ 
ginning  of  improvement,  of  perfection.  And  only  the  humble 
shall  enter  into  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven  because  they  alone 


120 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


feel  how  far  they  are  from  it.  We  are  angered  at  others  be¬ 
cause  our  dear  ego  feels  undeservedly  offended,  not  sufficiently 
served  by  others;  we  kill  our  brother  because  he  seems  an  ob¬ 
stacle  to  ouY  good;  we  steal  for  the  love  of  our  body,  we  forni¬ 
cate  to  give  pleasure  to  our  body;  envy,  mother  of  rivalry  and 
of  wars,  is  merely  sorrow  because  another  has  more  than  we, 
or  has  what  we  have  not;  pride  is  the  expression  of  our  cer¬ 
tainty  of  being  of  more  account  than  others,  of  possessing  more 
than  others,  of  knowing  more  than  others.  All  the  things 
which  religions,  morals,  and  laws  call  sins,  vices,  and  crimes 
begin  in  self-love,  in  the  hatred  for  others  which  springs  out  of 
that  one  solitary,  disordered  love. 

What  right  have  we  to  hate  our  enemies,  when  we  ourselves 
have  been  guilty  of  the  same  fault  for  which  we  think  we  have 
the  right  to  hate  them;  when  we  ourselves  have  been  guilty  of 
hatred?  What  right  have  we  to  hate  them,  even  if  they  have 
done  wrong,  even  if  we  believe  them  wicked,  when  we  ourselves 
nearly  always  have  done  the  same  wrong  actions,  have  been 
defiled  with  the  same  pitch?  What  right  have  we  to  hate  them 
if  nearly  always  we  are  responsible  for  their  hate?  We,  who 
with  the  endless  errors  of  our  monstrous  self-love,  have  forced 
them  to  hate  us?  And  he  who  hates  is  unhappy,  is  the  first  to 
suffer.  We  ought  to  respond  with  love  to  that  hatred,  with 
gentleness  to  that  harshness  as  reparation  for  the  suffering  of 
which  we  are  often  the  real  cause,  immediate  or  distant. 

Our  enemy  is  also  our  savior.  We  ought  every  day  to  be 
grateful  to  our  enemies;  they  alone  see  clearly  and  state  openly 
-what  is  ignoble  in  us;  they  make  us  conscious  of  our  moral 
poverty,  the  realization  of  which  is  the  only  beginning  for  the 
second  birth.  For  this  service  we  owe  them  love.  For  our 
enemy  needs  love,  and  needs  our  love.  He  who  loves  us 
already  has  his  joy  and  reward  in  himself.  He  needs  no  re¬ 
ward  from  us.  But  he  who  hates  is  unhappy;  hates  because  he 
is  unhappy.  His  hatred  is  the  bitter  outlet  for  his  sufferings. 
We  are  partly  guilty  for  this  suffering,  and  even  if,  over-confi¬ 
dent  in  our  innocence,  we  do  not  feel  that  we  are  responsible, 
we  ought  nevertheless  to  comfort  with  love  the  unhappiness  of 
the  man  who  hates,  to  calm  him,  make  him  better,  convert  him 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


127 


I  also  to  the  beatitudes  of  loving.  We  will  know  him  better  if 
I  we  love  him,  and  knowing  him  better,  we  will  love  him  more. 

I  We  only  love  heartily  what  we  know  well.  If  we  love  our 
enemy,  his  soul  will  be  transparent  to  us,  and  as  we  penetrate 
further  into  it,  we  will  discover  much  more  to  call  forth  our 
pity  and  our  love;  because  every  enemy  is  an  unrecognized 
I  brother;  we  often  hate  in  him  what  resembles  our  own  natures, 
i!  Something  of  ourselves,  unknown  perhaps  to  us,  is  in  our 
l|  enemy  and  is  often  the  cause  of  our  hostility.  When  we  love 
li  our  enemies  we  purify  our  spirit  by  understanding  and  lift  his 
::l  spirit  upward.  Hatred,  instead  of  driving  men  apart,  may  thus 
I  engender  a  light  that  liberates  men’s  souls.  The  worst  of  evil 
'  may  bring  about  the  highest  good. 

This  is  the  reason  why  Jesus  commands  us  to  reverse 
f  the  ordinary  and  customary  relations  of  men.  When  man  loves 
what  he  now  hates,  and  hates  what  he  now  loves,  he  will  be 
I  the  opposite  of  what  he  is  to-day.  And  if  life  now  is  made  up 
of  evils  and  despair,  the  new,  changed  life  being  the  opposite 
of  what  we  now  have,  will  be  all  goodness  and  consolation, 
i  For  the  first  time  we  shall  know  happiness;  the  Kingdom  of 
Heaven  will  begin  on  earth.  We  will  find  that  eternal  Para¬ 
dise,  lost  because  the  first  men  wished  to  learn  the  difference 
between  good  and  evil.  But  for  absolute  love  like  the  love  of 
God  the  Father,  there  is  neither  good  nor  evil.  Evil  is  over¬ 
whelmed  by  the  good.  Paradise  was  love,  love  between  man 
and  God,  between  man  and  woman.  The  new  earthly  para¬ 
dise,  the  paradise  regained,  will  be  the  love  of  every  man  for 
all  men.  Christ  is  He  who  leads  Adam  back  to  the  gates 
of  the  garden,  teaches  him  how  he  can  enter  and  live  there 
always. 

The  descendants  of  Adam  have  not  believed  Christ;  they  have 
'  repeated  His  words  but  have  not  obeyed  them,  and  because 
their  hearts  are  stubborn,  men  are  still  groaning  in  an  earthly 
i  Hell,  which  century  by  century  goes  on  becoming  more  in¬ 
fernal.  When  the  torments  finally  become  unendurable,  then 
the  damned  themselves  will  suddenly  learn  to  hate  hatred,  the 
dying  rebels  in  the  extremity  of  their  despair  will  learn  to 
love  their  executioners.  Then,  at  last,  from  the  depths  of  sor- 

i 

I 

I 


128  LIFE  OF  CHRIST 

rowful  gloom  will  shine  out  the  pure  splendor  of  a  miraculous 
spring. 

OUR  FATHER 

The  apostles  asked  Jesus  for  a  prayer.  He  had  told  them 
to  pray  briefly  and  secretly,  but  they  were  not  satisfied  with 
any  prayers  recommended  by  the  lukewarm,  bookish  priests 
of  the  Temple.  They  wanted  a  prayer  of  their  own  which 
would  be  like  a  countersign  among  the  fraternity  of  Christ. 
Jesus  on  the  Mount  taught  for  the  first  time  the  Pater-noster, 
the  only  prayer  which  He  ever  taught.  It  is  one  of  the  simplest 
prayers  in  the  world,  the  most  profound  which  goes  up  from 
human  homes  to  God,  a  prayer  neither  literary  nor  theo¬ 
logical — neither  bold  nor  servile — the  most  beautiful  of  all 
prayers.  But  though  the  Lord’s  Prayer  is  simple,  it  is  not 
always  understood.  The  century-old,  mechanical  reiteration 
of  tongues  and  lips,  the  formal  ritual  repetition,  have  made  it 
almost  a  string  of  syllables  from  which  the  original  meaning 
has  been  lost.  Reading  it  over  word  for  word  to-day  like  a  new 
text,  which  we  read  for  the  first  time,  it  loses  its  ritual  banality, 
and  freshens  into  its  first  meaning. 

^^Our  Father”;  for  we  have  sprung  from  Thee  and  love  Thee 
as  sons;  from  Thee  we  shall  receive  no  wrong. 

‘‘Which  art  in  heaven” — in  that  which  is  opposed  to  the 
earth,  in  the  opposite  sphere  from  matter,  in  spirit  and  in  that 
small  but  eternal  part  of  the  spirit  which  is  our  soul. 

“Hallowed  be  Thy  name”;  let  us  not  only  adore  Thee  with 
words  but  be  worthy  of  Thee,  drawing  nearer  to  Thee  with 
greater  love,  because  Thou  art  no  longer  the  avenger,  the  Lord 
of  Battles,  but  the  Father  who  teaches  the  joyfulness  of  peace. 

“Thy  Kingdom  come” — the  Kingdom  of  Heaven,  of  the 
spirit  of  love,  that  of  the  Gospel. 

“Thy  will  be  done,  in  earth  as  it  is  in  heaven” — may  Thy 
law  of  goodness  and  of  perfection  rule  both  spirit  and  matter, 
both  the  visible  and  invisible  universe. 

“Give  us  this  day  our  daily  bread”;  because  our  material 
body,  necessary  support  of  the  spirit,  needs  every  day  a  little 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


129 


material  food  to  maintain  it.  We  do  not  ask  of  Thee  riches, 
dangerous  burden,  but  only  that  small  amount  which  permits 
us  to  live,  to  become  more  worthy  of  the  promised  life.  Man 
does  not  live  by  bread  alone,  and  yet  without  a  morsel  of  bread 
the  soul,  living  in  the  body,  could  not  nourish  itself  on  other 
things  more  precious  than  bread. 

“Forgive  us  our  debts,  as  we  forgive  our  debtors.”  Pardon 
us  because  we  pardon  others.  Thou  art  our  eternal  and  in¬ 
finite  creditor.  We  can  never  pay  our  debt  to  Thee,  but  re¬ 
member  that  because  of  our  weakness,  it  is  more  of  an  effort 
for  us  to  forgive  one  single  debt  of  a  single  one  of  our  debtors 
than  it  is  for  Thee  to  sweep  away  the  record  of  all  that  we  owe 
Thee. 

“Lead  us  not  into  temptation.”  We  are  weak,  still  snared  in 
fleshliness  in  this  world  which  at  times  seems  so  beautiful  and 
calls  us  to  all  the  delights  of  faithlessness.  Help  us  that  our 
struggling  transformation  may  not  be  too  difficult,  and  that 
our  entry  into  the  Kingdom  may  not  be  too  long  delayed. 

“Deliver  us  from  evil” — Thou  who  art  in  Heaven,  who  art 
1  spirit,  who  hast  power  over  evil,  over  stubborn  and  hostile  mat¬ 
ter  which  surrounds  us  everywhere,  and  from  which  it  is  hard 
to  free  ourselves,  Thou  enemy  of  Satan,  negation  of  matter, 
help  us!  Our  true  greatness  lies  in  this  victory  over  evil,  over 
evil  which  springs  up  constantly  because  it  will  not  be  truly 
conquered  until  all  have  conquered  it.  But  this  decisive  vic- 
I  tory  will  be  less  distant  if  Thou  helpest  us  with  Thy  alliance. 

With  this  appeal  for  aid,  the  Lord’s  Prayer  ends.  In  it  are 
i  none  of  the  tiresome  blandishments  of  Oriental  prayers,  rig¬ 
maroles  of  adulation  and  hyperbole  which  seem  invented  by  a 
dog,  adoring  his  master  with  his  dog’s  soul,  because  his  master 
I  permits  him  to  exist  and  to  eat.  There  are  none  of  the 
querulous,  complaining  supplications  of  the  Psalmist  who  asks 
j  God  for  every  variety  of  aid,  more  often  temporal  than  spirit¬ 
ual,  laments  if  the  harvest  has  not  been  good,  if  his  fellow- 
citizens  do  not  respect  him,  and  calls  down  wounds  and  arrows 
on  the  enemies  whom  he  cannot  conquer  himself.  In  the 
Lord’s  Prayer  the  only  word  of  praise  is  the  word  “Father”; 
and  that  praise  is  a  pledge,  a  testimony  of  love.  From  this 


130 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


father  we  ask  only  for  a  little  bread,  and  we  ask  in  addition 
the  same  pardon  that  we  give  our  enemies;  and  at  the  last  a 
valid  protection  in  our  fight  with  evil,  the  enemy  of  all,  the 
great  wall  which  hinders  our  entry  into  the  Kingdom. 

He  who  says  ‘‘Our  Father”  is  not  proud  but  neither  is  he 
humbled;  he  speaks  to  his  Father  with  the  intimate  quiet  ac¬ 
cent  of  confidence  almost  as  from  one  equal  to  another.  He  is 
sure  of  his  love  and  he  knows  that  his  father  needs  no  long 
speeches  to  know  his  desires.  “Your  Father,”  says  Jesus, 
“knoweth  what  things  ye  have  need  of  before  ye  ask  Him.” 
Thus  the  most  beautiful  of  all  the  prayers  is  a  daily  calling  to 
mind  of  all  that  we  need  if  we  are  to  become  like  God. 

POWERFUL  DEEDS 

After  He  had  given  out  the  new  law  of  the  imitation  of  God, 
Jesus  came  down  from  the  Mount. 

One  cannot  always  remain  on  the  heights.  -The  moment  we 
arrive  on  the  summit  of  a  mountain  we  are  fated  to  descend. 
Every  ascent  is  a  pledge  of  descent,  a  promdse  to  come  down 
again.  He  who  has  something  to  say  must  make  himself: 
heard;  if  he  always  speaks  on  the  summits,  few  will  stay  with 
him;  it  is  cold  on  the  summits  for  those  who  are  not  all  on 
fire;  and  his  voice  will  reach  few.  He  who  has  come  to  give, 
cannot  ask  men,  weak  lungs,  tired  hearts,  nerveless  legs,  to 
follow  him  upward,  hobbling  along  to  the  heights.  He  must 
follow  them  down  to  the  plain,  into  their  houses;  he  must 
stoop  to  them  if  he  is  to  lift  them  up. 

Jesus  knew  that  exalted  teaching  on  the  heights  would  not 
suffice  to  spread  the  good  news  to  all.  He  knew  that  men  need  . 
less  abstract  words,  picture-making  words,  narrated  words 
words  almost  as  tangible  as  facts.  And  He  knew  that  ever 
these  words  would  not  be  enough. 

The  simple,  rustic,  coarse,  humble  people  who  followed  Jesu; 
were  men  whose  lives  were  based  on  material  things,  men  wh( 
could  only  understand  spiritual  things  slowly,  with  grea 
effort,  through  material  proofs,  signs  and  material  symbols^ 
They  could  not  understand  a  spiritual  truth  without  its  mal 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


131 

terial  incarnation;  without  evidence  simple  enough  for  them  to 
weigh,  evidence  stated  in  the  terms  of  the  everyday  world. 
An  illustrative  fable  can  lead  men  to  moral  revelation;  a 
prodigy  is  to  them  confirmation  of  a  new  truth,  of  a  contested 
mission.  Preaching,  made  up  of  abstract  axioms  and  apho- 
I  risms,  left  these  imaginative  Orientals  unsatisfied.  Jesus  had 
I  recourse  to  the  marvelous  and  to  poetry:  he  performed  mira- 
:  cles  and  spoke  in  parables.  For  many  moderns  the  miracles 
;  recounted  by  the  Evangelists  are  a  compelling  reason  for  turn- 
:  ing  away  from  Jesus  and  the  Bible.  Their  shriveled  brains 
:  cannot  take  in  the  miraculous  ;  therefore,  they  reason  the  Gos¬ 
pel  lies,  and  if  it  lies  in  so  many  places  none  of  it  can  be  be- 
'  lieved.  It  is  out  of  the  question  that  Jesus  can  ever  have 
[  raised  the  dead:  therefore.  His  words  have  no  value. 

The  people  who  reason  in  this  way  reason  ill.  They  give  to 
■  miracles  a  weight  and  a  meaning  much  greater  than  that  which 
^  Jesus  gave  them.  If  they  had  read  the  four  Gospels  they  would 
have  seen  that  Jesus  is  always  reluctant  to  perform  miracles, 
that  He  does  not  feel  this  divine  power  of  His  is  of  supreme 
importance.  Every  time  that  He  finds  a  fair  reason  for  refus¬ 
ing,  He  refuses;  if  He  yields,  it  is  to  reward  the  faith  of  the 
sorrowing  man  or  woman  who  calls  on  Him;  but  the  Gospels 
show  that  for  Himself,  for  His  own  salvation.  He  never  per¬ 
forms  miracles.  He  performs  no  miracles  in  the  wilderness 
j  with  Satan,  none  at  Nazareth  when  they  wish  to  kill  Him,  none 
®  at  Gethsemane  when  they  come  to  arrest  Him,  nor  on  the  cross 
when  they  challenge  Him  to  save  Himself.  His  power  is  only 
for  others,  to  benefit  His  mortal  brothers. 

'  There  are  many  who  ask  for  a  sign,  a  sign  from  Heaven,  a 
I  sign  to  persuade  the  unbelievers  that  His  word  is  the  true  word  : 
ii  “An  evil  and  adulterous  generation  seeketh  after  a  sign;  and 
i  there  shall  no  sign  be  given  to  it,  but  the  sign  of  the  Prophet 
Jonas.”  What  is  this  sign?  The  writers  of  the  gospel  who 
wrote  after  the  resurrection  thought  that  Jonah  emerging 
the  third  day  from  the  whale  symbolizes  Jesus  emerging 
the  third  day  from  the  tomb,  but  the  rest  of  what  Jesus  says 
I'  shows  that  He  meant  something  else.  “The  men  of  Nineveh 
’  shall  rise  in  judgment  with  this  generation,  and  shall  condemn 


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LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


it:  because  they  repented  at  the  teaching  of  Jonas;  and,  behold, 
a  greater  than  Jonas  is  here.”  Nineveh  did  not  ask  for  prodi¬ 
gies:  it  was  converted  by  the  word  alone.  Men  whom  Jesus 
cannot  convert  by  truths  infinitely  greater  than  those  an¬ 
nounced  by  Jonah,  are  below  the  level  of  the  men  of  Nineveh, 
idolaters,  barbarians.  Faith  must  not  rest  on  marvels  alone, 
nevertheless  let  us  remember  that  faith — though  it  is  higher 
and  more  perfect  when  achieved  without  miracles — can  by 
its  very  fervor  accomplish  miracles.  Hardened  hearts,  locked 
shut  against  truth,  are  not  converted  even  by  the  greatest 
miracles.  ^Hf  they  hear  not  Moses  and  the  Prophets,  neither 
will  they  be  persuaded,  though  one  rose  from  the  dead.”  He 
was  neglected  and  rejected  by  the  cities  which  were  the  scenes 
of  the  greatest  prodigies.  ^Woe  unto  thee,  Chorazin!  Woe 
unto  thee,  Bethsaida!  for  if  the  mighty  works  which  were  done 
in  you  had  been  done  in  Tyre  and  Sidon,  they  would  have  re¬ 
pented  long  ago,  in  sack-cloth  and  ashes.” 

Jesus  never  held  that  miracles  were  His  exclusive  privilege. 
When  they  came  to  tell  Him  that  some  man  was  driving  out 
Demons  in  His  name.  He  answered,  “Forbid  him  not.”  This 
power  was  not  denied  to  the  disciples.  “Heal  the  sick,  cleanse 
the  lepers,  raise  the  dead,  cast  out  devils:  freely  ye  have  re¬ 
ceived,  freely  give.” 

Even  charlatanical  wizards  could  perform  prodigies  which 
seemed  miracles.  In  His  time  a  certain  Simon  was  doing 
miracles  in  Samaria;  even  the  disciples  of  the  Pharisees  per¬ 
formed  miracles.  But  miracles  are  not  enough  to  enter  into 
the  Kingdom.  “Many  shall  say  to  Me  in  that  day.  Lord, 
Lord,  did  we  not  prophesy  in  Thy  name  and  in  Thy  name  cast 
out  devils,  and  in  Thy  name  do  many  mighty  works?  And  then 
will  I  profess  unto  them,  I  never  knew  you;  depart  from  Me, 
all  ye  workers  of  iniquity.”  It  is  not  enough  to  cast  out  devils, 
if  thou  has  not  cast  out  the  devil  in  thee,  the  devil  of  pride 
and  cupidity. 

Even  after  His  death  men  will  see  others  perform  miracles. 
“For  there  shall  arise  false  Christs,  and  false  prophets,  and 
shall  shew  great  signs  and  wonders;  insomuch  that,  if  it  were 
possible,  they  shall  deceive  the  very  elect.”  I  have  put  you 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


133 


m  your  guard  :  do  not  believe  in  these  signs  and  these  wonders 
intil  thou  shalt  see  the  Son  of  Man.  The  miracles  of  false 
prophets  do  not  prove  the  truth  of  what  they  say. 

For  all  these  reasons,  Jesus  abstained,  as  often  as  possible, 
;rom  working  miracles,  but  He  could  not  always  resist  the 
^leadings  of  the  sorrowful,  and  often  His  pity  did  not  wait 
hr  the  request.  For  a  miracle  is  an  attribute  of  faith,  and 
3is  faith  is  infinite,  and  that  of  the  believers  very  great.  But 
)ften,  as  soon  as  the  healing  was  complete.  He  asked  the  ones 
3e  had  healed  to  keep  it  secret.  ^‘See  thou  tell  no  man;  Go 
fhy  way.’’  Those  who  do  not  listen  to  the  truth  of  Christ, 
j)ecause  they  are  troubled  by  the  miracles,  should  remember 
[he  profound  saying  which  was  addressed  to  Thomas,  ^‘Blessed 
ire  they  that  have  not  seen  and  yet  have  believed.” 


THE  BLIND  SEE 

Men  cannot  live  without  three  things,  bread,  health  and 
liope.  Deprived  of  everything  else  men  can — raging  and 
cursing — go  on  living.  But  if  they  have  not  at  least  these 
hree,  they  hasten  to  summon  Death,  because  without  them 
ife  is  like  Death.  It  is  death  with  suffering  added,  an  aggra- 
/ated,  embittered,  envenomed  death,  without  even  the  anses- 

[letic  of  insensibility.  Flunger  is  the  wasting  away  of  the 
ody;  pain  makes  the  body  hateful;  despair — not  to  expect 
nything  better,  a  relief,  an  alleviation — takes  the  savor  out 
])f  everything,  takes  away  every  reason  to  be,  and  every  reason 
o  act.  There  are  men  who  do  not  kill  themselves  because 
uicide  is  an  action. 

He  who  wishes  to  draw  men  to  him  must  give  them  bread, 
lealth  and  hope.  He  must  feed  them,  heal  them  and  give 
hem  faith  in  a  more  beautiful  life. 

Jesus  gives  this  faith.  To  those  who  followed  Him  into 
he  wilderness  and  upon  the  mountains.  He  distributed 
naterial  and  spiritual  bread.  He  was  not  willing  to  transform 
tones  into  loaves,  but  He  made  the  real  loaves  of  bread  suffi- 
:ient  for  thousands.  And  the  stones  which  men  carry  in  their 
)reasts  He  changed  into  loving  hearts. 


134 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


And  He  did  not  reject  the  sick.  Jesus  is  no  self-tormentor, 
no  flagellant.  He  does  not  believe  that  pain  is  necessary  to 
conquer  evil.  Evil  is  evil  and  must  be  driven  away,  but 
pain  also  is  evil.  Sorrow  of  the  soul  is  enough  for  salvation: 
why  should  the  body  suffer  also,  needlessly?  The  old  Jews 
thought  of  sickness  as  a  punishment:  Christians  believe  it 
above  all  as  an  aid  to  conversion. 

But  Jesus  does  not  believe  in  vengeance  taken  on  the  inno¬ 
cent,  and  does  not  expect  that  true  salvation  can  be  won  by 
ulcers  or  by  hair  shirts.  Render  unto  the  body  that  which 
is  the  body’s  due,  and  unto  the  soul  that  which  is  the  soul’s. 
He  likes  the  friendly  supper-table;  He  does  not  refuse  good 
old  wine;  and  He  does  not  send  away  women  who  pour  per¬ 
fumes  on  His  head  and  on  His  feet.  Jesus  can  fast  many 
days;  He  can  be  satisfied  with  a  bit  of  bread,  with  half  of  a 
broiled  fish;  and  He  can  sleep  on  the  ground  with  His  head 
on  a  stone;  but  till  it  is  unavoidable  He  does  not  seek  out 
want,  hunger  and  suffering.  Health  seems  to  Him  a  good  thing 
and  the  innocent  pleasure  of  dining  with  friends;  a  cup  of 
wine  drunk  in  good  company,  the  fragrance  of  a  vase  of  nard, 
seem  good  and  acceptable  to  Him  also  when  such  things  cause 
no  suffering  to  others. 

If  a  sick  man  accosts  Him,  He  cures  him.  Jesus  comes  not 
to  deny  life,  but  to  affirm  it,  to  institute  a  happier  and  more 
perfect  life.  He  does  not  purposely  seek  out  the  sick.  His 
mission  is  to  drive  away  spiritual  suffering,  to  bring  spiritual 
joy.  But  if,  by  the  way,  it  happens  to  Him  to  drive  out  also 
suffering  of  the  flesh,  to  quiet  pain,  to  restore,  along  with 
the  health  of  the  soul,  the  health  also  of  the  body.  He  cannot 
refuse  to  do  it.  He  shows  Flimself  adverse  to  it,  for  the  most 
part,  because  His  aim  is  higher;  and  He  would  not  wish  to 
appear  in  the  eyes  of  the  people  like  a  vagabond  wizard,  or 
like  the  worldly  Messiah  whom  most  men  were  expecting. 
But  since  He  wishes  to  conquer  evil,  and  there  are  men  who 
know  Him  capable  of  conquering  all  evils.  His  love  is  forced 
to  drive  out  also  those  of  the  body. 

When,  on  the  road  trodden  by  men  of  health,  there  come^ 
towards  Him  groups  of  lepers,  repellent,  disfigured,  horrible 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


135 


lepers,  and  when  He  sees  that  swollen  lividness,  the  scaly  skin 
showing  through  the  torn  clothes,  that  scabby,  spotted,  cracked 
skin,  the  withered,  wrinkled  skin  which  deforms  the  mouth, 
half-closes  the  eyes,  and  puffs  up  the  hands;  wretched,  suffer¬ 
ing  ghosts,  shunned  by  every  one,  separated  from  every  one, 
disgusting  to  every  one,  who  are  thankful  if  they  have  a  little 
bread,  a  saucer  for  their  water,  the  roof  of  an  old  shed  for 
a  hiding-place;  when  painfully  bringing  out  the  words  through 
their  swollen,  ulcerated  lips  they  beg  Him,  whom  they  know 
to  be  powerful  in  word  and  deed,  beg  Him,  their  only  hope 
in  their  despair,  for  health,  for  a  cure,  for  a  miracle,  how 
could  Jesus  shun  them,  as  other  men  did,  and  ignore  their 
prayer? 

And  the  epileptics,  who  writhe  in  the  dust,  their  faces  twisted 
in  a  set  spasm,  the  froth  on  their  lips;  those  possessed  of  devils 
who  howl  among  the  ruined  tombs,  evil  dogs  of  the  night,  dis¬ 
consolate;  the  paralytics,  trunks  which  have  just  enough  feeling 
left  to  suffer,  dead  bodies  inhabited  by  an  imprisoned  and  sup¬ 
pliant  soul;  and  the  blind,  the  awful  blind,  shut  up  from  their 
birth  in  the  night — foretaste  of  the  blackness  of  the  tomb — 
stumbling  in  the  midst  of  the  fortunate  men  who  go  their  way 
freely,  the  terrified  blind,  who  walk  with  their  heads  held  high, 
their  eyes  staring,  as  if  the  light  could  reach  them  from  the 
depths  of  the  infinite,  the  blind,  for  whom  the  world  is  only  a 
series  of  more  or  less  harsh  surfaces,  among  which  they  grope; 
the  blind,  eternally  alone,  who  know  the  sun  only  by  its 
warmth,  by  the  heat  on  their  bodies  1  How  could  Jesus  an¬ 
swer  ‘‘No”  to  such  wretchedness? 

THE  ANSAVER  TO  JOHN 

Jesus  heals  the  sick,  but  He  is  in  no  way  like  a  wizard 
or  an  exorcist.  He  has  no  recourse  to  incantation,  to  amulets, 
to  smoke,  veils  and  mystery.  He  does  not  call  to  His  aid  the 
powers  of  Heaven  or  Hell.  For  Him  a  word  is  enough,  a 
strong  cry,  a  gentle  accent,  a  caress.  His  will  is  enough,  and 
the  faith  of  the  petitioner.  To  them  all  He  puts  the  question, 
“Dost  thou  believe  I  can  do  this?”  and  when  the  cure  is  ac- 


136 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


complished,  ^‘Go,  thy  faith  hath  made  thee  whole.’’  For  Jesus 
the  miracle  is  the  union  of  two  wills  for  good,  the  living  con¬ 
tact  between  the  faith  of  the  healer  and  the  faith  of  the  one 
healed.  Verily  I  say  unto  you,  If  ye  have  faith  as  a  grain 
of  mustard  seed,  ye  shall  say  unto  this  mountain.  Remove 
hence,  to  yonder  place;  and  it  shall  remove;  and  nothing  shall 
be  impossible  unto  you.  If  ye  had  faith  as  a  grain  of  mustard 
seed,  ye  might  say  unto  this  sycamine  tree.  Be  thou  plucked 
up  by  the  root  and  be  thou  planted  in  the  sea;  and  it  should 
obey  you.”  Those  who  have  no  faith,  not  even  as  much  as 
the  thousandth  part  of  a  grain  of  mustard  seed,  swear  that  no 
man  has  this  power,  and  that  Jesus  is  an  impostor. 

In  the  Gospels  the  miracles  are  called  by  three  names: 
“Dunameis” — forces;  ^Terata” — marvels;  “Semeis” — signs. 
They  are  signs  for  those  who  remember  the  prophecies  of  the 
Messiah;  they  are  ‘‘marvels”  for  those  who  look  for  proofs 
that  Christ  is  the  Messiah;  but  for  Jesus  and  in  Jesus  there 
are  only  “Dunameis,”  mighty  works,  victorious  lightning- 
flashes  from  a  superhuman  power.  The  healings  of  Jesus  are 
two-fold;  they  are  healings  not  only  of  bodies  but  of  souls, 
and  it  is  soul-sickness  which  Jesus  wishes  especially  to  heal, 
so  that  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven  may  be  founded  also  on  the 
earth. 

Most  sickness  is  two-fold,  mental  and  physical,  and  lends 
itself  with  singular  exactitude  to  metaphors  and  allegory.  Jesus 
cured  the  maimed,  the  halt,  the  fevered,  a  man  with  the  dropsy, 
a  woman  with  an  issue  of  blood.  He  healed  also  a  sword- 
wound — Malchus’  ear  struck  off  by  Peter  on  the  night  of 
Gethsemane — this  only  in  order  that  His  law  .  .  .  “do  good 
to  those  who  wrong  you”  .  .  .  might  be  observed  to  the 
very  last.  But  Jesus  healed  more  often  those  possessed  by 
devils,  the  paralytics,  the  lepers,  the  blind,  the  deaf-mutes. 
The  old  name  for  mental  diseases  is  possession  by  devils;  even 
Professor  Aristotle  believed  in  possession  by  devils.  It  was 
believed  that  lunatics,  epileptics,  hysterical  patients,  were  in¬ 
vaded  by  malign  spirits.  The  contradictory  and  often  merely 
verbal  explanations  of  the  moderns  does  not  invalidate  the 
fact  that  demoniacs,  in  many  cases,  are  such  in  the  real  sense 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


137 


of  the  word.  This  learned  and  popular  explanation  lent  itself 
admirably  to  that  allegorical  and  figurative  teaching  of  which 
Jesus  was  so  fond.  He  wished  to  found  the  Kingdom  of  God 
and  supplant  that  of  Satan.  It  was  part  of  His  mission  to 
drive  out  demons.  The  difference  between  bodily  disorders 
and  actual  malign  obsessions  was  of  no  importance:  between 
bodily  infirmities  and  spiritual  infirmities  there  is  a  parallelism 
of  nomenclature,  based  on  real  affinity.  There  is  a  likeness 
between  the  maniac  and  the  epileptic,  between  the  paralytic 
.and  the  slothful,  the  vile  and  the  leprous,  the  blind  and  he 
who  cannot  see  the  truth,  the  deaf  and  he  who  will  not  listen 
i  to  the  truth,  the  cured  and  the  resurrected. 

When  John,  shut  up  in  prison,  sent  two  disciples  to  ask 
Jesus  if  He  were  the  awaited  prophet,  or  whether  they  should 
?  await  another,  Jesus  answered  them,  ^‘Go  your  way,  and  tell 
John  what  things  ye  have  seen,  and  heard;  how  that  the  blind 
J  see,  the  lame  walk,  the  lepers  are  cleansed,  the  deaf  hear,  the 
I  dead  are  raised,  to  the  poor  the  gospel  is  preached.’^  Jesus 
did  not  separate  the  gospel  from  miraculous  cures.  They  are 
similar  deeds;  by  that  answer  he  meant  that  he  had  cured 
■  bodies  in  order  that  the  souls  might  be  better  disposed  to  re- 
:  ceive  the  gospel. 

Those  who  did  not  see  the  light  of  the  sun  can  now  see 
;  the  light  of  truth;  those  who  did  not  hear  even  the  words 
i  of  men  can  now  hear  the  words  of  God;  those  who  were 
i  possessed  of  Satan  are  freed  from  Satan;  those  who  were 
il  foul  and  ulcerated  are  clean  as  children;  those  who  could 
'  not  move,  who  were  strengthless  and  shrunken,  now  follow 
my  footsteps;  those  who  were  dead  to  the  life  of  the  soul 
!  have  risen  at  a  word  from  me  .  .  .  and  the  poor,  after  the 
:  Good  News,  are  richer  than  the  wealthy.  These  are  my 
;  credentials,  my  letters  proving  my  legitimacy. 

Jesus,  Healer  and  Liberator,  is  not  what  the  bad  faith  of 
ij  His  modern  enemies  wish  to  imagine  Him,  in  order  to  gild  once 
:  more  their  comfortable  paganism  and  to  protect  it  against 
asceticism.  ‘‘He  is  the  God,^’  they  say,  “of  the  sick,  the  weak, 
the  dirty,  the  wretched,  the  strengthless,  the  servants.”  But 
'  all  that  Christ  does  is  to  give  health,  strength,  purity,  wealth, 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


138 

and  liberty.  He  draws  near  to  the  sick  precisely  in  order  to 
drive  away  their  sickness;  to  the  weak  to  lift  them  out  of  their 
weakness;  to  the  dirty  in  order  to  cleanse  them;  to  slaves 
in  order  to  free  them.  He  does  not  love  the  sick  only  because 
they  are  sick:  He  loves  health,  just  as  the  men  of  antiquity 
did,  and  He  loves  it  so  greatly  that  He  longs  to  give  it  back 
to  those  who  have  lost  it.  Jesus  is  the  prophet  of  happiness, 
the  promiser  of  life,  of  life  that  is  worthier  to  be  lived.  The 
miracles  are  only  pledges  of  His  promise. 

TALITHA  QUMI 

^The  dead  shall  arise!”  This  is  one  of  the  signs  which 
are  to  suffice  for  John  the  Baptist  in  prison.  To  the  good 
sister,  to  the  hard-working  Martha,  Jesus  said,  ‘T  am  the  res¬ 
urrection  and  the  life:  he  that  believeth  in  me,  though  he 
were  dead,  yet  shall  he  live;  and  whosoever  liveth,  and  be¬ 
lieveth  in  me,  shall  never  die.”  The  resurrection  is  a  rebirth 
in  faith,  immortality  is  the  permanent  affirmation  of  this 
faith. 

The  Evangelists  know  three  resurrections,  historical  events 
narrated  with  a  sober  but  explicit  statement  of  the  evidence. 
Jesus  raised  up  three  who  were  dead:  a  young  lad,  a  little 
girl,  and  a  friend. 

He  was  entering  Nain,  ^^the  beautiful”  set  on  a  little  hill 
some  miles  from  Nazareth,  and  met  a  funeral  procession. 
They  were  carrying  to  the  grave  the  young  son  of  a  widow. 
She  had  lost  her  husband  a  short  time  before;  this  son  alone 
had  been  left  to  her;  now  they  were  carrying  away  the  son 
in  turn  for  burial.  Jesus  saw  the  mother  walking  among 
the  women,  weeping  with  the  amazed  and  smothered  grief  of 
mothers  which  is  so  profoundly  moving.  She  had  only  two 
men  in  all  the  world  who  loved  her;  the  first  one  was  dead, 
the  second  was  now  dead;  one  after  the  other,  both  of  them 
disappeared.  She  was  left  alone,  a  woman  alone  without  a  ,1 
man.  Without  a  husband,  without  a  son,  without  a  help,  a 
prop,  a  comfort.  Gone  the  love  that  was  a  memory  of  youth, 
gone  the  love  that  was  hope  for  declining  years.  Gone  both 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


139 


those  poor,  simple  loves.  '  A  husband  can  console  his  wife 
for  the  loss  of  their  son;  a  son  can  make  up  for  the  loss  of  a 
husband.  If  only  one  had  been  left!  Now  her  lips  were  never 
to  know  another  kiss. 

Jesus  had  compassion  on  this  mother;  her  grief  was  like 
an  accusation.  ^Weep  not,’’  he  said. 

He  went  to  the  side  of  the  cataleptic  and  touched  him.  The 
boy  was  lying  there  stretched  out,  wrapped  in  his  shroud,  but 
with  his  face  uncovered,  set  in  the  stern  paleness  of  the  dead. 
The  bearers  halted;  all  were  silent;  even  the  mother,  startled, 
was  quiet. 

^‘Young  man,  I  say  unto  thee.  Arise.”  And  he  that  was 
dead  sat  up,  and  began  to  speak.  And  He  delivered  him  to 
his  mother.  He  ‘‘delivered”  him  because  he  was  now  hers. 
Jesus  had  taken  him  from  the  land  of  death  to  give  him  back 
to  her  who  could  not  live  without  him,  that  a  mother  might 
cease  from  weeping. 

Another  day  as  he  was  returning  from  Gadara,  a  father  fell 
at  His  feet.  His  only  little  daughter  lay  at  the  point  of  death. 
The  man’s  name  was  Jairus,  and  although  he  was  a  leader 
at  the  Synagogue  he  believed  in  Jesus.  They  went  along  to¬ 
gether.  When  they  were  half-way,  a  servant  met  them,  saying, 
“Thy  daughter  is  dead;  trouble  not  the  Master.”  But  when 
Jesus  heard  it,  He  answered  him,  saying,  “Fear  not:  believe 
only,  and  she  shall  be  made  whole.”  And  when  He  came  into 
the  house  He  suffered  no  man  to  go  in,  save  Peter,  and  James, 
and  John,  and  the  father  and  the  mother  of  the  maiden.  And 
all  wept,  and  bewailed  her:  but  He  said,  “Weep  not;  she  is  not 
dead,  but  sleepeth.”  And  they  laughed  Him  to  scorn,  know¬ 
ing  that  she  was  dead.  And  He  put  them  all  out,  and  took 
her  by  the  hand,  and  called,  saying,  “Maid,  arise.”  And  her 
spirit  came  again,  and  she  arose  straightway:  and  He  com¬ 
manded  to  give  her  meat.  She  was  not  a  visible  spirit,  a 
ghost,  but  a  living  body,  awakened  a  little  weak,  ready  for  a . 
new  day  after  feverish  dreams. 


I 


140 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


LAZARUS  AWAKENED  ! 

Lazarus  and  Jesus  loved  each  other.  More  than  once  Jesus 
had  eaten  in  his  house  at  Bethany  with  him  and  his  sisters. 
Now  one  day  Lazarus  fell  ill,  and  sent  word  of  it  to  Jesus,  i 
And  Jesus  answered,  ^This  sickness  is  not  unto  death.”  Two  ; 
days  went  by.  But  on  the  third  day  He  said  to  His  disciples,  | 
‘‘Our  friend  Lazarus  sleepeth;  but  I  go,  that  I  may  awake  I 
him  out  of  sleep.”  He  was  near  to  Bethany  when  Martha  I 
came  to  meet  Him  as  if  to  reproach  Him.  | 

“Lord,  if  Thou  hadst  been  here  my  brother  had  not  died.”  I 
And  a  little  later  Mary  too  said,  “Lord,  if  Thou  hadst  been  f 
here,  my  brother  had  not  died.”  Their  repeated  reproach  I 
touched  Jesus,  not  because  He  feared  He  had  come  too  late,  f 
but  because  He  was  always  saddened  by  the  lack  of  faith  even  | 
of  those  dearest  to  Him.  | 

“And  he  said.  Where  have  ye  laid  him?  They  said  unto| 
him.  Lord,  come  and  see.  .  .  .  Jesus  therefore  again  groan- 1 
ing  in  himself  cometh  to  the  grave.  It  was  a  cave  and  a  stone  | 
lay  upon  it.  Jesus  said,  Take  ye  away  the  stone.”  |: 

Martha,  the  housekeeper,  the  practical,  concrete  character,  | 
interrupted,  “Lord,  by  this  time  he  stinketh:  for  he  hath  beenf 
dead  four  days.”  But  Jesus  did  not  heed  her,  “Take  away  | 
the  stone.”  And  the  stone  was  rolled  away.  Jesus  made  a  t; 

T?-’  '* 

short  prayer.  His  face  lifted  towards  the  sky,  drew  near  to  the| 
hole  and  called  His  friend  in  a  loud  voice,  “Lazarus,  come| 
forth.”  I 

And  Lazarus  came  forth,  stumbling,  for  his  hands  and  feetf 
were  shrouded  and  his  face  covered  with  a  napkin.  i 

“Loose  him,  and  let  him  go.”  | 

And  all  four,  followed  by  the  Twelve  and  by  a  throng  off 
thunderstruck  Jews,  returned  to  the  house.  Lazarus^  eyes  grewii 
wonted  again  to  the  light.  He  walked  on  his  feet,  althoughli 
with  pain,  and  used  his  hands.  Martha,  moving  rapidly,  goti 
together  the  best  dinner  she  could  in  the  confusion  after  fourf 
days  of  demoralized  sorrow — and  the  man  come  back  to  lifel;; 
after  death  ate  with  his  sister  and  his  friends.  Mary  could^ 
scarcely  swallow  a  mouthful  of  food,  nor  take  her  eyes  fronti 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


141 


the  conqueror  of  death,  who,  having  wiped  the  tears  from  His 
eyes,  broke  His  bread  and  drank  His  wine  as  if  this  day  were 
like  any  other  day. 

These  are  the  resurrections  narrated  by  the  Evangelists,  and 
from  their  account  we  can  draw  some  observations  which  will 
allow  us  to  dispense  with  learned,  that  is  to  say  with  unsuit¬ 
able,  commentaries.  In  all  His  life,  Jesus  raised  from  the  dead 
only  three  persons,  and  this  He  did,  not  to  make  a  show  of  His 
power  and  to  strike  the  imagination  of  the  people,  but  only 
because  He  was  touched  by  the  sorrow  of  those  who  loved  the 
dead,  to  console  a  mother,  a  father,  two  sisters.  Two  of  these 
resurrections  were  public;  one,  that  of  the  daughter  of  Jairus, 
was  accomplished  in  the  presence  of  very  few,  and  Jesus  asked 
those  few  to  say  nothing  about  it. 

Another  point,  and  the  most  important;  in  all  these  three 
cases  Jesus  spoke  to  the  dead  person  as  if  he  were  not  dead 
but  only  asleep.  He  had  no  time  to  say  anything  about  the 
condition  of  the  son  of  the  widow,  because  that  decision  was 
taken  too  rapidly,  but  even  to  him,  He  said,  as  to  a  child,  idly 
oversleeping,  ‘‘Young  man,  I  say  unto  thee,  arise.”  When 
they  told  Him  that  the  daughter  of  Jairus  was  dead.  He  an¬ 
swered,  “Weep  not,  she  is  not  dead  but  sleepeth.”  When  they 
confirmed  the  news  of  the  death  of  Lazarus,  He  insisted,  “He 
is  not  dead  but  sleepeth.”  He  made  no  claim  to  bring  back 
from  the  dead,  only  to  awaken.  Death  for  Him  was  only  a 
sleep,  a  deeper  sleep  than  the  common  sleep  of  everyday,  a 
sleep  only  to  be  broken  by  a  superhuman  love.  This  love 
was  for  the  survivors  more  than  for  the  dead;  it  was  the  love 
of  one  whose  tears  flow  at  the  sight  of  others’  tears. 

THE  MARRIAGE  AT  CANA 

Jesus  liked  to  go  to  weddings.  For  the  man  of  the  people 
who  very  seldom  gives  way  to  lavishness  and  gayety,  who 
never  eats  and  drinks  as  much  as  he  would  like,  the  day  of  his 
wedding  is  the  most  remarkable  of  all  his  life,  a  rich  passage 
of  generous  gayety  in  his  long,  drab,  commonplace  existence. 
Wealthy  people  who  can  have  banquets  every  evening,  mod- 


>1 


142 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


erns  who  gulp  down  in  a  day  what  would  have  sufficedj 
for  a  week  to  the  poor  man  of  olden  times,  no  longer  feel] 
the  solemn  joyfulness  of  that  day.  But  the  poor  man  in  the  ] 
old  days,  the  workingman,  the  countryman,  the  Oriental  who| 
lived  all  the  year  round  on  barley-bread,  dried  figs  and  a  few  ^ 
fish  and  eggs,  and  only  on  great  days  killed  a  lamb  or  a  kid,  | 
the  man  accustomed  to  stint  himself,  to  calculate  closely,  to 
dispense  with  many  things,  to  be  satisfied  with  what  is  strictly 
necessary,  saw  in  weddings  the  truest  and  greatest  festival  of  ■ 
his  life.  The  other  festivals,  those  of  the  people  and  those 
of  the  Church,  were  the  same  for  everybody,  and  they  are 
repeated  every  twelfth  month;  but  a  wedding  was  his  very  own 
festival  and  only  came  once  for  him  in  all  the  cycle  of  his 
years. 

Then  all  the  delights  and  splendors  of  the  world  were  cen¬ 
tered  around  the  bride  and  groom,  to  make  the  day  unfor¬ 
gettable  for  them.  Torches  went  at  night  to  meet  the  groom 
with  singers,  dancers  and  musicians.  The  house  was  filled 
with  abundance,  all  sorts  of  meats  cooked  in  all  sorts  of  ways; 
wine-skins  of  wine  leaning  against  the  walls,  vases  of  unguents . 
for  the  friends;  light,  music,  perfumes,  gayety,  dancing;  noth-j 
ing  was  lacking  for  the  gratification  of  the  senses.  On  that  one 
day  all  the  things  which  are  the  daily  privilege  of  princes  and 
rich  men  triumphed  in  the  poor  man’s  house. 

Jesus  was  pleased  by  this  innocent  joy,  and  touched  by  the 
exultation  of  those  simple  souls,  snatched  for  those  few  hours 
from  the  gloomy,  niggardly  poverty  of  their  everyday  life.  In 
weddings  He  saw  more  than  a  mere  festival.  Marriage  is  the 
supreme  effort  of  the  youth  of  man  to  conquer  Fate  with  love, 
with  the  union  of  two  affections,  with  the  joining  of  two  loving  j 
youths.  It  is  the  affirmation  of  a  double  faith  in  life,  in  the 
continuity  and  stability  of  life.  The  man  who  marries  is  a 
hostage  in  the  hands  of  human  society.  Making  himself  the  i 
head  of  a  new  society  and  father  of  a  new  generation,  he  frees  i 
himself  while  he  professes  to  bind  himself.  Marriage  is  a  j 
promise  of  happiness,  and  an  acceptance  of  suffering.  Illusion  i 
and  conscience  have  their  part  in  it  In  the  shadow  of  tragedy, , 
which  sends  over  the  future  a  trembling  hope  of  joy,  is  the  : 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


143 


jf'i 


heroic  and  holy  greatness  of  marriage,  which  cannot  be  dis- 
:  pensed  with,  and  yet,  in  the  light  of  selfish  reason,  should  not 
be  accepted.  Who  has  ever  seen,  except  in  this  case,  a  con¬ 
demnation  so  eagerly  longed  for? 

For  Jesus  marriage  has  a  still  deeper  meaning:  it  is  the 
beginning  of  something  eternal.  Whom  God  hath  joined,  man 
cannot  put  asunder.  When  hearts  have  been  united  and  bodies 
I  joined,  no  law  nor  sword  can  sever  them.  In  this  our  human 
;  life,  changeable,  ephemeral,  evasive,  failing,  frail,  there  is  only 
I  one  thing  that  ought  to  last  forever  till  death  and  beyond  death, 
j  — marriage,  the  only  link  of  eternity  in  the  perishable  chain. 

Jesus  often  speaks  of  weddings  and  banquets.  Among  the 
most  beautiful  parables  is  that  of  the  King  who  sent  out  in¬ 
vitations  to  the  wedding  of  his  son,  that  other  of  the  Virgins 
who  wait  by  night  for  the  arrival  of  the  bridegroom’s  friend; 

I  and  that  of  the  Lord  who  prepared  a  banquet.  Christ  com- 
I  pares  Himself  to  a  bridegroom  feasted  by  His  friends  when 
He  answers  those  who  are  scandalized  because  His  disciples 
eat  and  drink. 

!  He  did  not  despise  wine,  and  when  with  His  Twelve,  He 
drinks  that  wine  which  is  His  blood.  He  thinks  of  the  new 
wine  of  the  Kingdom.  It  is  not  surprising  therefore  that  He 
should  have  accepted  the  invitation  to  the  wedding  at  Cana. 
Every  one  knows  the  miracle  He  wrought  that  day.  Six  jars 
I  of  water  were  changed  by  Jesus  into  wine,  and  into  wine  better 
than  that  which  had  been  drunk.  Old  rationalists  say  that  this 
t  was  a  present  of  wine  kept  hidden  until  then,  a  surprise  of 
Jesus  at  the  end  of  the  meal,  in  honor  of  the  bride  and  groom. 
And  six  hundred  quarts  of  wine,  they  add,  are  a  fine  present, 
showing  the  liberality  of  the  Master. 

;  These  Voltairian  vermin  have  not  noticed  that  only  John, 
the  man  of  allegories,  the  philosophizer,  tells  of  the  Marriage 
at  Cana.  It  was  not  a  sleight-of-hand  trick,  but  a  true  trans¬ 
mutation,  performed  with  the  power  of  Spirit  over  matter,  and 
at  the  same  time  it  is  one  of  those  Parables  in  fact,  instead 
of  in  words,  a  Parable  told  by  actual  deeds. 

‘  But  whoever  does  not  stop  at  the  literal  meaning  of  the 
story,  sees  that  the  water  turned  into  wine  symbolizes  the 


144 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


new  epoch  which  begins  with  the  Gospel.  Before  the  Annun¬ 
ciation  and  the  vigil  in  the  desert,  water  was  enough;  the  world 
was  left  to  sorrow.  But  now  the  joyful  tidings  are  come,  the 
Kingdom  is  at  hand,  happiness  is  near.  Men  are  about  to 
pass  from  sadness  to  joy,  from  the  widowhood  of  the  old  law 
to  the  new  marriage  with  the  new  law.  The  Bridegroom  is 
with  us.  Now  is  no  time  for  sadness,  but  for  enthusiasm. 
There  will  be  no  more  fasting  but  rejoicings;  no  more  water 
but  wine. 

Remember  the  words  of  the  steward  to  the  Bridegroom, 
“Every  man  at  the  beginning  doth  set  forth  good  wine;  and 
when  men  have  well  drunk,  then  that  which  is  worse  :  but  Thou 
hast  kept  the  good  wine  until  now.”  Such  was  the  old  usage, 
the  usage  of  the  Jews  of  old  times  and  of  the  heathen.  But 
Jesus  meant  to  overturn  this  old  amphictyonic  usage  also. 
The  men  of  old  gave  the  good  and  then  the  poor;  He,  after  the 
good  wine,  gives  better.  Sour,  unripened  wine,  the  poor  qual¬ 
ity  which  was  drunk  at  the  beginning,  symbolizes  the  wine  of 
the  old  law,  the  wine  that  has  turned  sour  and  can  no  longer 
be  drunk.  Christ’s  wine,  finer  and  stronger,  which  cheers  the 
heart  and  warms  the  blood,  is  the  new  wine  of  the  Kingdom, 
wine  intended  for  the  marriage  of  Heaven  and  earth,  wine 
which  gives  that  divine  intoxication  which  will  be  called  later, 
“the  foolishness  of  God.” 

The  marriage  of  Cana,  which  in  John  is  the  first  miracle, 
is  an  allegory  of  the  evangelical  revolution. 

THE  ACCURSED  FIG-TREE 

Another  parable  expressed  in  the  form  of  a  miracle  is  that 
of  the  withered  fig-tree.  One  morning  towards  Easter,  re¬ 
turning  from  Bethany  to  Jerusalem,  Jesus  was  hungry.  He 
came  up  to  a  fig-tree  and  found  only  leaves.  It  was  too  earlj 
to  expect  fruit,  even  from  the  earliest  species.  Yet  Jesus 
according  to  Matthew  and  Mark,  was  angry  at  the  poor  tree 
and  cursed  it. 

According  to  Matthew,  “Let  no  fruit  grow  on  thee  hence 
forward  forever.”  And  presently  the  fig-tree  withered  away. 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


145 


According  to  Mark,  ‘^No  man  eat  fruit  of  thee  hereafter  for¬ 
ever.  .  .  .  And  in  the  morning,  as  they  passed  by,  they  saw 
the  fig-tree  dried  up  from  the  roots.’’ 

In  the  Evangelists  the  account  of  the  curse  is  followed 
by  a  return  to  the  thought  many  times  expressed  by  jesus, 
that  anything  can  be  obtained  if  asked  for  with  powerful  faith. 

Others  instead  see  here  a  metaphorical  lament  which  many 
times  returned  to  Jesus’  lips.  The  fig-tree  is  Israel,  the  old 
Judaic  religion,  which  from  now  on  will  bear  only  unnourish¬ 
ing  leaves  of  rites  and  ceremonies,  leaves  fated  to  shrivel 
without  nourishing  men.  Jesus,  hungry  for  justice,  hungry 
for  love,  sought  among  the  leaves  for  sustaining  fruits  of 
mercy  and  holiness.  He  did  not  find  them.  Israel  did  not 
feed  His  hunger  nor  fulfill  His  hope.  From  now  on  nothing 
can  be  expected  from  the  old  trunk,  leafy  but  sterile.  May 
it  be  dead  to  all  eternity!  Other  races  will  henceforth  be 
fruitful. 

The  miracle  of  the  cursed  fig-tree  is  at  bottom  nothing  more 
than  a  very  apparent  gloss  of  the  parable  of  the  sterile  fig-tree 
in  Luke.  ^^A  certain  man  had  a  fig-tree  planted  in  his  vine¬ 
yard;  and  he  came  and  sought  fruit  thereon,  and  found  none. 
Then  said  he  unto  the  dresser  of  his  vineyard.  Behold,  these 
three  years  I  come  seeking  fruit  on  this  fig-tree  and  find  none: 
cut  it  down;  why  cumbereth  it  the  ground?” 

And  he  answering  said  unto  him,  ^Tord,  let  it  alone  this 
year  also,  till  I  shall  dig  about  it  and  dung  it:  and  if  it  bear 
fruit,  well:  and  if  not,  then  after  that  thou  shalt  cut  it  down.” 

The  tree  was  not  condemned  at  first,  but  after  three  years 
of  sterility,  and  even  then  by  the  intercession  of  the  workman, 
was  given  a  year’s  respite,  and  in  that  year  the  plant  was 
handled  and  treated  with  loving  care.  That  was  to  be  the 
final  test:  only  if  all  care  was  unavailing  was  it  to  be  hewn 
down  and  burned. 

For  three  years  Jesus  had  preached  to  the  Jews,  and  He 
was  thinking  of  giving  them  up,  and  announcing  the  Kingdom 
to  others.  But  one  of  His  workers,  a  disciple  still  attached  to 
his  people,  asked  for  mercy;  one  respite  more.  We  shall  see 
whether  even  great  love  could  convert  this  adulterous  and  bas- 


146 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


tard  generation.  But  when  they  were  on  the  road  from  Beth¬ 
any,  Judaism  had  been  put  to  the  test,  Christ  had  only  His 
Cross  to  expect.  The  evil  fig-tree  of  Judaism  deserved  to  be 
burned  and  from  that  time  on  no  one  will  eat  its  tardy,  with¬ 
ered  fruit. 


BREAD  AND  FISHES 

On  two  occasions  there  was  a  multiplication  of  bread,  alike 
in  all  details  except  the  proportions  of  the  quantities  involved, 
— that  is,  in  exactly  what  give  them  their  real  spiritual  mean¬ 
ing. 

Thousands  of  poor  people  had  followed  Jesus  into  a  place 
in  the  wilderness,  far  from  any  settlements.  For  three  days 
they  had  not  eaten,  so  hungry  were  they  for  the  bread  of  life 
which  is  His  word.  But  on  the  third  day,  Jesus  took  pity  on 
them — there  were  women  and  children  among  them — and  or¬ 
dered  His  disciples  to  feed  the  multitude.  But  they  had  only 
a  little  bread  and  a  few  fishes,  and  there  were  thousands  of 
mouths.  Then  Jesus  had  them  all  sit  down  on  the  ground 
on  the  green  grass,  in  circles  of  fifty  to  a  hundred.  He  blessed 
the  small  amount  of  food  they  had;  all  were  satisfied,  and 
baskets  of  the  broken  pieces  were  left. 

The  less  there  is  of  the  true  bread,  the  bread  of  truth,  the 
more  it  satisfies.  The  old  law  is  abundant,  copious,  divided 
into  innumerable  sections.  There  are  hundreds  of  precepts 
written  in  the  books  and  thousands  more  invented  by  the 
Scribes  and  Pharisees.  At  first  sight  it  seems  a  gigantic  table 
where  a  whole  race  could  be  satisfied.  But  all  these  precepts, 
these  rules  and  formulas  are  only  dry  leaves,  shavings,  trash. 
No  one  can  live  on  such  fare.  The  more  numerous  they  are, 
the  less  they  satisfy.  Humble  and  simple  people  cannot  satisfy 
their  hunger  for  justice  with  these  innumerable  but  inedible 
viands.  Instead,  one  Word  alone  sums  up  all  the  words  and 
transcends  the  petrified  bigotry  beloved  by  the  complacent 
and  satiated;  one  Word  which  fills  the  soul,  which  reconciles 
hearts,  which  calms  the  hunger  for  justice;  the  multitudes  will 
be  satisfied  and  there  will  be  enough  to  eat  also  for  those  who 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


^47 


were  not  present  on  that  day.  Spiritual  bread  is  in  itself 
miraculous.  A  loaf  of  wheat  bread  is  only  enough  for  a  very 
few,  and  when  they  have  finished  it,  there  is  no  more  for  any 
one!  But  the  bread  of  truth,  that  mystic  bread  of  Joy  is  never 
finished,  can  never  be  finished.  Give  it  out  to  thousands  and 
it  is  always  there;  distribute  it  to  millions,  and  it  is  always 
intact.  Every  one  has  taken  his  part  as  the  men  and  women 
in  the  wilderness  did,  and  as  much  as  was  given  out,  so  much 
the  more  remains  for  those  who  are  to  come. 

Another  day  when  the  disciples  found  themselves  without 
bread,  Jesus  admonished  them  to  bev/are  of  the  leaven  of  the 
Pharisees  and  Sadducees.  And  the  disciples,  almost  always 
slow  to  understand  Him,  said  among  themselves,  ‘‘It  is  be¬ 
cause  we  have  taken  no  bread.”  Which  when  Jesus  perceived 
he  said  unto  them,  “O  ye  of  little  faith,  why  reason  ye  among 
yourselves,  because  ye  have  brought  no  bread?  Do  ye  not 
yet  understand  neither  remember  the  five  loaves  of  the  five 
thousand  and  how  many  baskets  ye  took  up?  Neither  the 
seven  loaves  of  the  four  thousand  and  how  many  baskets  ye 
took  up?  How  is  it  that  ye  do  not  understand  that  I  spake 
it  not  to  you  concerning  bread,  that  ye  should  beware  of  the 
leaven  of  the  Pharisees  and  of  the  Sadducees?”  That  is,  of 
the  blind  guardians  of  the  degenerate  law. 

They  are  the  Twelve,  the  chosen,  the  blest,  the  faithful,  and 
yet  they  cannot  understand  at  once,  do  not  sufficiently  believe. 

Again  in  the  boat,  the  night  of  the  tempest,  Jesus  was 
obliged  to  reprove  them.  The  Master  had  gone  to  sleep  in 
the  stern.  His  head  on  the  pillow  of  one  of  the  rowers.  Sud¬ 
denly  the  wind  rose,  a  storm  came  down  on  the  lake,  the  waves 
beat  against  the  boat  and  it  seemed  from  one  moment  to 
the  next  that  they  would  be  wrecked.  The  disciples,  alarmed, 
awakened  Jesus,  “Master,  carest  thou  not  that  we  perish?” 
And  he  arose,  and  rebuked  the  wind,  and  said  unto  the  sea, 
“Peace,  be  still.”  And  the  wind  ceased  and  there  was  a  great 
calm.  And  He  said  unto  them,  “Why  are  ye  so  fearful?  how 
is  it  that  ye  have  no  faith?”  And  they  feared  exceedingly, 
and  said  one  to  another,  “What  manner  of  man  is  this,  that 
even  the  wind  and  the  sea  obey  him?” 


148 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


There  is  one,  Simon  Peter,  who  has  no  fear.  Not  only  does 
his  nature  transcend  the  human,  but  great  is  his  faith,  great 
his  love,  great  his  power  of  will.  Nothing  animate  nor  inani- 
mate  can  resist  these  three  great  qualities.  A  man  who  pos¬ 
sesses  them  has  renounced  all  that  is  temporal  and  is  victorious 
over  time.  He  has  renounced  the  good  things  of  the  flesh,  and 
for  this  reason  can  save  the  flesh;  he  has  renounced  material 
things  and  so  is  master  of  matter.  Every  one  can  partake  of 
this  power.  Faith  is  sufficient,  but  it  must  not  be  faith  only  in 
oneself. 

A  few  years  before  Christ,  a  great  Italian,  captain  in  many 
wars,  corrupt  but  a  fitting  ruler  over  the  putrefaction  of  the  Re¬ 
public,  was  on  the  sea,  on  a  real  sea,  in  a  boat  with  a  few 
rowers,  in  search  of  an  army  which  had  not  come  up  in  time 
to  win  the  victory  for  him.  The  wind  began  to  blow,  the 
tempest  bore  down  on  the  boat  and  the  pilot  wished  to  turn 
back  to  the  harbor.  But  Caesar,  taking  the  hand  of  the  pilot, 
said  to  him,  “Go  forward,  fear  not,  Caesar  is  with  thee  and 
his  fortune  sails  with  you.’’  These  words  of  haughty  self- 
confidence  heartened  the  crew;  every  one,  as  if  a  little 
of  Caesar’s  strength  had  entered  into  his  soul,  did  his  best  to 
overcome  the  opposition  of  the  sea.  But  notwithstanding  the 
efforts  of  the  seamen  the  ship  was  nearly  sunk  and  was  obliged 
to  turn  back.  Caesar’s  faith  was  only  pride  and  ambition,  faith 
in  himself:  Christ’s  faith  was  all  love,  love  for  the  Father,  love 
for  men. 

With  this  love  He  could  walk  to  meet  the  boat  of  the  dis¬ 
ciples  tacking  against  a  contrary  wind,  and  could  step  upon  the 
water  as  on  the  grass  of  a  meadow.  They  thought  in  the  dark¬ 
ness  that  it  was  a  specter,  and  once  again  He  was  obliged  to 
reassure  them,  “Be  of  good  cheer:  it  is  I;  be  not  afraid.”  As 
soon  as  He  was  in  the  boat,  the  wind  fell  and  in  a  few  minutes 
they  reached  the  shore.  Once  again  they  were  astounded  be¬ 
cause,  says  the  honest  Mark,  “For  they  considered  not  the 
miracle  of  the  loaves:  for  their  heart  was  hardened.” 

This  comparison  may  seem  ingenuous,  but  it  is  revealing, 
for  the  miracle  of  the  loaves  is  the  foundation  of  all  the  others. 
Every  parable  spoken  in  poetic  words  or  expressed  with  visible 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


149 


prodigies  was  as  bread  prepared  in  different  manners,  so  that 
His  own  followers,  at  least  His  very  own,  should  understand 
the  one  needful  truth  that  the  Spirit  is  the  only  fare  worthy 
of  man,  and  that  the  man  who  is  nourished  on  that  fare  is 
master  of  the  world. 

NOT  secretive:  a  poet 

Jesus  seems  at  first  sight  secretive.  He  orders  those  affected 
by  miracles  to  say  to  no  man  who  has  cured  them;  He  wishes 
prayers  and  charity  to  be  done  secretly;  when  the  disciples 
recognize  that  He  is  the  Christ,  He  charges  them  not  to  repeat 
it;  after  the  Transfiguration  He  bids  the  three  keep  silence, 
and  when  He  teaches  He  uses  parables  which  all  men  are  not 
capable  of  understanding. 

On  further  thought,  on  really  considering  the  matter,  it  is 
apparent  that  Jesus  has  nothing  of  the  esoteric.  He  has  no 
secret  doctrine  to  impart  to  a  few  acolytes.  His  words  are 
public  and  open.  He  always  speaks  in  the  public  squares  of 
cities,  on  the  beaches  of  lakes,  in  the  Synagogue,  in  the  midst 
of  the  people.  He  forbids  speaking  of  His  miracles  in  order 
that  He  may  not  be  confused  with  wizards  and  exor¬ 
cists;’  He  commands  to  do  good  secretly  in  order  to  keep 
vainglory  from  destroying  merit;  He  does  not  wish  the  Twelve 
to  proclaim  Him  the  Christ  before  His  entry  into  Jerusalem, 
the  public  inauguration  of  His  Messiahship;  and  He  speaks 
in  parables  to  be  better  understood  by  the  simple  who  listen 
more  willingly  to  a  story  than  to  a  sermon,  and  remember  a 
narration  better  than  an  argument. 

Three  of  the  Evangelists  report  a  speech  of  Jesus,  which 
seems  to  contradict  this  view.  ‘‘Unto  you,”  He  is  speaking  to 
the  disciples,  “it  is  given  to  know  the  mysteries  of  the  King¬ 
dom  of  God,  but  to  others  it  is  not  given;  therefore  I  speak  to 
them  in  parables  that  seeing  they  might  not  see,  and  hearing 
they  might  not  understand.” 

But  Jesus  means  only  to  say  this,  “You  understand  these 
mysteries,  but  the  many  do  not  understand  them,  although 
they  have  ears  and  spirits  like  yours.  And  to  them  that  they 


LIFE  OF  CFIRIST 


ISO 

may  understand  I  speak  in  parables, — that  is,  in  a  figurative 
language  of  facts  because  it  is  easier  and  more  familiar.”  You 
teach  children  with  fables  and  the  simple  with  stories,  and  ‘‘the 
many”  have  remained  like  the  simple  and  the  childish.  To 
overcome  the  slowness  of  their  minds  I  use  words  adapted  to 
their  nature.  They  are  all  fancy,  and  little  intellect;  and  the 
parables  are  an  appeal  to  the  imagination  more  than  to  the 
reasoning  powers.  I  do  not  employ  them  therefore  to  hide  the 
truth,  but  the  better  to  reveal  it  to  those  who  could  not  see  it 
in  a  purely  rational  form.  For  if  then  they  do  not  understand, 
it  is  the  fault  of  their  obstinacy,  which  often  closes  the  eyes 
and  ears  of  the  soul. 

Jesus  had  no  mysteries  to  dissemble.  It  was  His  wish  that 
all,  even  the  most  humble  and  ignorant,  should  understand 
Him.  The  parables  were  not  made  to  hide  His  teaching  from 
the  profane,  but  to  make  it  more  explicit  and  understandable 
to  every  one.  That  sometimes  even  the  intelligence  of  the 
Twelve  is  inferior  to  this  task  is  a  melancholy  conclusion  by 
no  means  unknown  to  Jesus. 

The  marvelous  content  of  His  message  has  cast  into  the 
shade  His  poetic  originality,  not  less  marvelous.  Jesus  never 
wrote — once  only  He  wrote  on  the  sand,  and  the  wind 
destroyed  forever  His  handwriting — ^but  in  the  midst  of  a  peo¬ 
ple  of  powerful  imagination,  of  the  people  who  wrote  the 
Psalter,  the  story  of  Ruth,  the  book  of  Job,  the  Song  of  Songs, 
He  would  have  been  one  of  the  greatest  poets  of  all  times. 
His  victorious  youthfulness  of  spirit,  the  racy,  popular  lan¬ 
guage  of  the  country  where  He  grew  up,  the  books  He  had 
read,  few  but  among  the  richest  of  all  poetry — His  loving  com¬ 
munion  with  the  life  of  the  fields  and  of  animals  and  above  all 
His  divine  and  passionate  yearning  to  give  light  to  those  who 
suffer  in  the  dark,  to  save  those  who  are  being  lost  forever, 
to  carry  supreme  happiness  to  the  most  unhappy  (because  true 
poetry  does  not  catch  its  fire  from  the  light  of  the  lantern  but  i 
at  the  light  of  the  stars  and  of  the  sun,  is  not  found  in  the 
writings  left  behind  by  great-grandfathers,  but  in  love,  in  sor¬ 
row  in  the  deeply  moved  soul);  these  things  combined  made 
of  Jesus  a  poet,  an  inventor  of  living  and  eternal  images  with 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


151 

which  he  achieved  a  miracle  on  which  the  Evangelists  make  no 
comment, — the  miracle  of  communicating  the  highest  truth  by 
the  means  of  stories  so  simple,  familiar,  full  of  grace  that  after 
twenty  centuries  they  shine  with  that  unique  youth  which  is 
eternity.  Some  of  these  stories  are  only  idyllic  or  epic  restate¬ 
ments  of  revelations  which  at  other  times  He  expounded  in  ab¬ 
stract  words;  but  there  are  some  which  express  things  never 
said  in  any  other  form  in  His  teaching.  The  parables  are  the 
imaginative  comments  on  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount,  such  as 
could  be  made  only  by  a  poet  who  merits  the  title  of  divine 
more  truly  than  any  other  poet  ever  born. 

YEAST 

City  ladies  do  not  make  their  own  bread,  but  old  country¬ 
women  and  housewives  know  what  yeast  is.  A  handful  of 
dough  from  the  last  baking  as  big  as  a  child’s  hand,  wet  with 
warm  water  and  put  into  the  new  dough,  raises  even  as  much 
as  three  measures  of  flour. 

Among  the  seeds  of  plants  that  of  the  mustard  is  among  the 
smallest;  it  can  hardly  be  seen,  but  from  this  tiny  little  seed, 
if  it  is  put  into  good  earth,  springs  up  a  fine  shrub,  and 
the  fowls  of  the  air  lodge  in  the  branches  of  it.  The  grain 
of  wheat  is  not  large,  the  farmer  throws  it  into  the  ground 
and  then  goes  on  about  his  other  affairs;  he  sleeps,  he  goes 
away  from  home  and  comes  back.  Days  pass  and  nights  pass, 
no  thought  is  given  to  the  seed,  but  underneath  there  in  the 
moist,  plowed  field  the  seed  has  germinated.  There  comes 
out  a  blade  of  green  and  at  the  top  of  this  blade  an  ear,  at 
first  green  and  graceful,  then  little  by  little  becoming  golden 
grain.  Now  the  field  is  ready  for  the  mowing  and  the  farmer 
can  commence  his  harvesting. 

Likewise  with  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven  and  the  first  news 
of  it.  A  word  seems  nothing.  What  is  a  word?  Syllables, 
sounds,  which  come  from  the  lips,  enter  with  difficulty  into 
the  ears  and  only  when  they  come  from  the  heart  find  other 
hearts;  it  is  a  little  thing,  small,  a  breath,  a  sigh,  a  sound 
which  comes  and  goes  and  the  wind  carries  it  away.  And  yet 


152 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


the  word  of  the  Kingdom  is  like  yeast.  If  it  goes  into  good 
flour,  clean  honest  flour  not  adulterated  with  other  grains,  it 
ferments  and  grows.  It  is  like  the  seed  of  the  fields  which  ger¬ 
minates  deep  under  the  ground,  patient  as  the  earth  which 
hides  it,  which,  when  Spring  comes,  grows  green  and  strong 
and  with  the  beginning  of  summer,  lo,  the  harvest  is  ready  I 

The  gospel  is  made  up  of  few  words,  ‘The  Kingdom  is  at 
hand,  change  your  souls  !  but  if  it  falls  into  the  heart  of  men 
ready  for  it,  of  simple  men  who  wish  to  become  great,  of 
righteous  men  who  wish  to  become  holy,  of  sinners  who  seek 
in  good  for  that  happiness  which  they  have  vainly  sought  in 
evil,  then  those  words  take  root  in  the  depths,  put  out  buds 
and  shoots,  flourish  up  in  clusters  and  ears,  and  luxuriate  in  a 
summer  never  to  be  followed  by  the  decay  of  Autumn. 

Only  a  few  men  of  those  living  about  Christ  believed  in  the 
Kingdom  and  prepared  themselves  for  the  great  day.  Only  a 
few,  insignificant  men,  scattered  like  tiny  particles  of  yeast  in 
the  midst  of  the  divided  nations  and  the  immense  Empires,  but 
these  few  dozen  insignificant  men  gathered  together  in  the 
midst  of  a  predestined  people  were  to  become,  through  the 
contagion  of  their  example,  thousands  upon  thousands,  and 
only  three  hundred  years  after  them,  in  the  place  of  Tiberius, 
ruled  a  man  who  bowed  the  knee  before  the  heirs  of  the 
Apostles. 

But  men  must  renounce  everything  else  if  they  are  to  enjoy 
the  promised  Kingdom.  Worldly-minded  men  do  the  same  in 
their  temporal  affairs.  If  a  man  working  in  another’s  field  dis¬ 
covers  a  treasure-store,  he  quickly  hides  it  again  and  hurries 
to  sell  all  that  he  has  to  buy  that  field.  If  a  merchant  looking 
for  marvelous  jewels  worthy  to  be  offered  to  monarchs,  finds  a 
pearl  larger  and  purer  than  any  he  has  ever  seen,  he  goes  and 
sells  everything  that  he  has,  even  the  other  pearls  of  less  price, 
to  buy  this  unique  and  wonderful  pearl. 

If  the  workman  and  the  merchant,  material-minded  men, 
who  are  satisfied  with  frail  acquisitions,  are  thus  ready  to  sell 
all  their  goods  to  acquire  a  treasure  which  seems  to  them  more 
precious  than  anything  they  possess,  even  though  it  is  only  a 
material  and  perishable  treasure,  how  much  more  reason  there 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


153 


is  for  men  to  renounce  what  they  hold  most  dear,  in  order 
to  achieve  the  Kingdom  of  God.  If  the  laboring-man  and  the 
merchant  for  a  money  gain,  likely  to  be  stolen  or  destroyed, 
thus  consent  to  a  provisional  sacrifice  which  will  give  them  a 
hundred  per  cent  profit,  ought  not  we  for  an  infinitely  greater, 
infinitely  higher  profit,  throw  away  the  best  we  have,  even  if  it 
has  seemed  until  now  of  inestimable  price? 

But  before  we  make  this  renunciation  we  must  take  thought 
and  be  sure  that  what  remains  to  us  will  be  enough  to  take  us 
to  the  end  of  this  new  undertaking.  We  must  measure  the 
forces  of  our  soul,  that  it  may  not  happen  to  us  as  to  the  man 
who  wished  to  build  up  a  tower,  a  beautiful  tower  which  would 
soar  up  to  the  sky  like  that  of  Jerusalem.  He  took  no  account 
of  the  cost  but  called  the  diggers,  had  the  foundations  ex¬ 
cavated;  called  the  masons  and  had  the  four  walls  of  the 
foundations  begun;  but  when  the  tower  had  scarcely  been 
raised  above  the  level  of  the  earth,  and  was  not  yet  as  high 
as  the  roof  of  a  house,  he  was  obliged  to  stop  because  he  had 
no  more  money  to  pay  for  the  mortar,  the  stones,  the  bricks 
and  the  working  men;  and  the  tower  remained  thus,  low  and 
unsightly,  in  memory  of  his  presumption:  and  his  neighbors 
mocked  at  him. 

A  king  who  wants  to  make  war  on  another  king  first  takes 
account  of  his  soldiers,  and  if  he  can  count  only  on  ten 
thousand  and  the  other  has  twenty  thousand,  he  puts  off  any 
idea  of  war,  and  sends  an  embassy  of  peace  before  his  enemy 
can  take  the  first  hostile  step.  He  who  is  not  sure  of  himself, 
of  being  able  to  conquer  to  the  last,  does  not  follow  Christ. 
For  the  foundation  of  the  Kingdom  is  infinitely  harder  work 
than  the  building  of  a  tower,  and  the  creation  of  the  new  man 
is  war  not  less  harsh  than  external  war,  although  silent  and 
inner. 

THE  BANQUET 

Only  the  clean  of  heart  can  enter  into  the  Kingdom.  The 
Kingdom  is  an  eternal  feast,  and  only  those  dressed  for  a 
feast  can  go  there.  There  was  a  King  who  celebrated  his  son’s 
wedding,  and  those  whom  he  invited  did  jaot  come.  Then 


154 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


the  King  called  in  the  common  people,  the  passers-by,  the 
beggars,  every  one;  but  when  the  King  came  into  the  ban¬ 
queting  hall  and  saw  one  of  the  guests  all  filthy  with  grease 
and  mud,  he  had  him  cast  outside  the  door,  to  gnash  his  teeth 
in  the  coldness  of  night. 

At  the  banquet  of  the  Kingdom  if  the  first  called  do  not 
come,  all  are  accepted;  even  the  wretched  and  the  sinners. 
The  King  had  invited  first  the  chosen  people;  but  one  had 
bought  a  piece  of  ground,  another  five  yoke  of  oxen,  a  third 
had  taken  a  wife  that  day.  They  were  all  deep  in  their  affairs, 
and  some  did  not  even  trouble  to  send  an  excuse  Then  the 
King  sent  his  servants  to  pick  up  out  of  the  streets  the  blind, 
the  poor,  the  maimed  and  the  halt,  the  lowest  of  the  rabble; 
and  still  there  was  room.  Then  he  commanded  that  those 
who  passed  in  front  of  his  palace  should  be  forced  to  come 
in,  whoever  they  might  be;  and  the  banquet  began.  It  was  a 
royal  banquet,  a  rich  and  magnificent  feast;  but  after  all,  it 
consisted  in  enjoying  lamb  and  fish,  in  getting  drunk  on  wine 
and  cider.  At  the  break  of  day  the  bonfire  was  burned 
out,  the  tables  were  cleared,  every  one  had  to  return  to  his 
home  and  to  his  poverty.  If  some  of  those  whom  the  King 
first  invited  preferred  another  material  pleasure  to  this  ma¬ 
terial  pleasure  it  was  pardonable 

But  the  invitation  to  the  banquet  of  the  Kingdom  is  a  prom¬ 
ise  of  spiritual  happiness,  absolute,  satisfying,  perpetual. 
Something  else  than  the  passing  amusements  of  terrestrial  life: 
nauseating  drunkenness,  food  that  distends  the  stomach,  sens¬ 
ual  pleasures  that  leave  a  man  bone-weary  and  defiled.  And 
yet  the  men  whom  Jesus  chose  among  all  other  men,  and  called 
first  of  all  to  the  divine  feast  of  the  reborn,  did  not  respond. 
They  m,ade  wry  faces,  complained,  slipped  away  and  continued 
their  habitual  low  actions.  They  preferred  the  rubbish  of 
carnal  goods  to  the  splendor  of  high  hope  which  is  the  only 
reasonable  reason  for  living. 

Then  all  the  others  were  called  in  their  place:  beggars 
instead  of  the  rich,  sinners  instead  of  Pharisees,  women  of  the 
streets  instead  of  fine  ladies,  the  sick  and  sorrowing  instead 
of  the  strong  and  happy. 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


155 


Even  the  latest  arrivals  if  they  come  in  time  will  be  admitted 
to  the  feast.  The  master  of  the  vineyard  saw  in  the  market¬ 
place  certain  laborers  who  were  waiting  for  work,  sent  them 
out  to  prune  his  vines,  and  agreed  on  their  wages.  Later  at 
noon-day  he  saw  others  without  work  and  sent  also  those; 
and  still  later  more  again,  and  he  sent  them  all.  And  they 
all  worked,  some  at  pruning  and  some  at  hoeing,  and  when 
the  evening  came  the  master  gave  the  same  pay  to  all.  But 
those  who  had  begun  in  the  morning  early,  murmured,  “Why 
do  those  who  have  worked  less  than  we  receive  the  same  pay¬ 
ment?”  But  the  master  answered  one  of  them  and  said 
“Didst  not  thou  agree  with  me  for  a  penny;  why  then  dost 
thou  lament?  If  it  is  my  pleasure  to  give  the  same  to  the 
working  men  of  the  last  hour,  is  that  robbing  you  others?” 

The  apparent  injustice  of  the  master  is  only  a  more  gener¬ 
ous  justice.  To  all  he  gives  what  he  has  promised,  and  he 
who  arrived  last  but  works  with  equal  hope  has  the  same  right 
as  the  others  to  enjoy  that  Kingdom  for  which  he  has  labored 
until  the  night. 

Woe  to  him  who  comes  too  late!  No  one  knows  the  exact 
day,  but  after  that  hour  he  who  has  not  gone  in  will  knock 
at  the  door,  and  it  will  not  be  opened  to  him,  and  he  will  mourn 
in  outer  darkness. 

The  master  has  gone  to  the  wedding  and  the  servants  do  not 
know  when  he  will  com_e  back.  Fortunate  are  those  who  have 
waited  for  him  and  whom  he  will  find  awake.  The  master 
himself  will  seat  them  at  the  table  and  will  serve  them.  But 
if  he  find  them  sleeping,  if  no  one  is  ready  to  receive  him, 
if  they  make  him  knock  at  the  door  before  opening  it,  if 
they  come  to  meet  him  disheveled,  tousled,  half-clad,  and  if 
he  finds  in  the  house  no  lamp  lighted,  no  water  warmed,  he 
will  take  the  servants  by  the  arm  and  drive  them  out  without 
pity. 

Every  one  should  be  ready  because  the  Son  of  Man  is  like 
a  thief  in  the  night  who  sends  no  word  beforehand  when  he 
will  come.  Or  like  a  bridegroom  who  has  been  detained  by 
some  one  in  the  street.  In  the  house  of  the  bride  there  are 
ten  virgins  who  are  waiting  to  go  to  meet  him  with  the  light 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


156 

of  the  procession.  Five,  the  wise  virgins,  take  oil  for  their 
lamps,  and  wait  to  hear  the  voices  and  the  steps  of  the  ap¬ 
proaching  bridegroom.  The  other  five,  the  foolish,  do  not 
think  of  the  oil,  and,  tired  of  waiting,  fall  asleep.  And  sud¬ 
denly  there  is  the  sound  of  the  nuptial  procession  arriving. 
The  five  wise  virgins  light  their  lamps  and  run  out  into  the 
street  joyfully  to  welcome  the  bridegroom.  The  other  five 
wake  up  with  a  start  and  ask  their  companions  to  give  them 
a  little  oil.  But  the  others  say,  “Why  did  you  not  provide 
for  that  sooner?  Go  and  buy  some.”  And  the  foolish  run 
from  one  house  to  another  to  get  a  little  oil;  but  everybody 
is  asleep,  and  nobody  answers  them,  and  the  shops  are  closed 
and  the  roaming  dogs  bark  at  their  heels.  They  go  back  to 
the  house  of  the  wedding,  but  now  the  door  is  closed.  The  five 
wise  virgins  are  already  there  and  feasting  with  the  bride¬ 
groom.  The  five  foolish  virgins  knock  and  beg  and  cry  out, 
but  no  one  comes  to  open  for  them.  Through  the  cracks  in 
the  window  casings  they  see  the  glowing  lights  of  the  supper. 
They  hear  the  clatter  of  the  dishes,  the  clinking  of  the  cups, 
the  songs  of  the  young  men,  the  sound  of  the  musical  instru¬ 
ments,  but  they  cannot  enter.  They  must  stay  there  until 
morning,  in  the  dark,  and  the  wind.  Shut  out  from  the 
pleasures  of  the  evening  festival,  they  tremble  and  shake  in 
terror. 


THE  NARROW  GATE 

“Enter  ye  in  at  the  strait  gate:  for  wide  is  the  gate,  and 
broad  is  the  way,  that  leadeth  to  destruction,  and  many  there 
be  which  go  in  thereat:  Because  strait  is  the  gate,  narrow  is  the 
way,  which  leadeth  unto  life,  and  few  there  be  that  find  it.” 
Those  who  will  try  to  enter  will  fail,  because  the  master  of 
the  house,  when  he  has  shut  his  door,  will  no  longer  recognize 
any  one. 

Until  the  great  day,  until  it  is  too  late,  “Ask  and  it  shall  be 
given  to  you;  seek  and  ye  shall  find,  knock  and  it  shall  be 
opened  unto  you.”  Even  hard,  slothful,  obstinate  men  give 
way  to  persistent  entreaty.  If  even  men  are  not  always  in- 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST  i57 

sensible  to  pleadings  how  much  surer  will  be  the  response 
from  a  Father  who  loves  us? 

A  man  at  midnight  knocks  at  the  door  of  a  friend  and  wakens 
him.  Through  the  door  he  says  to  him,  “Friend,  lend  me  three 
loaves;  For  a  friend  of  mine  in  his  journey  is  come  to  me,  and 
I  have  nothing  to  set  before  him.”  But  the  other,  still  half 
asleep,  replies,  “Trouble  me  not:  for  I  am  tired,  and  I  do  not 
wish  to  arise.  And  here  in  my  bed  I  have  my  children  who 
are  asleep  and  if  I  get  up  I  will  wake  them  and  chill  them.” 
But  the  other  will  not  give  up,  and  knocks  again  on  the  door 
and  raises  his  voice  and  begs  with  clasped  hands  that  the 
other  one  will  do  him  this  service,  for  he  has  no  other  friends 
near,  and  the  hour  is  late  and  his  guest  hungry  and  waiting 
for  him.  And  he  storms  so  at  the  door  that  his  friend  gets 
out  of  bed  and  lets  him  come  in  and  gives  him  as  many  loaves 
as  he  needs.  The  friend  was  weak,  but  good-hearted.  And 
even  the  bad-hearted  do  as  he  does.  There  was  in  a  certain 
city  a  judge  who  cared  for  no  one,  a  morose  and  scornful  man 
who  wanted  to  do  everything  as  it  suited  him  best.  A  widow 
went  every  day  before  him  and  asked  for  justice,  and  although 
her  cause  was  just  the  judge  always  sent  her  away  and  would 
not  do  what  she  wished.  But  the  widow  patiently  endured 
all  his  repulses  and  did  not  weary  in  her  importunity.  And 
finally  the  judge  to  get  rid  of  this  woman  who  wore  him  out 
with  her  supplications,  pleadings,  and  prayers,  gave  the  sen¬ 
tence  and  sent  her  in  peace. 

But  no  more  must  be  asked  than  can  be  expected.  He 
who  has  accomplished  his  task  will  eat  and  drink  but  will 
not  have  any  special  place  of  honor,  nor  will  he  be  better 
served  than  his  brother,  and  certainly  not  so  well  as  his 
superior.  When  the  servant,  having  been  in  the  field  sowing 
or  pasturing  the  cattle,  comes  back  to  the  house,  the  master 
does  not  call  him  to  eat  at  his  own  table,  but  first  is  served 
himself  and  afterwards  gives  the  servant  the  meal  which  is 
due  him.  This  is  a  Parable  which  Jesus  meant  for  His  Apos¬ 
tles,  who  were  already  disputing  about  who  would  have  the 
highest  place  in  the  Kingdom.  “Doth  he  thank  that  servant 
because  he  did  the  things  that  were  commanded  him?  I  trow 


158 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


not.  So  likewise  ye,  when  ye  shall  have  done  all  those  things  ' 
which  were  commanded  you,  say:  We  are  unprofitable  serv-i 
ants:  we  have  done  that  which  was  our  duty  to  do.”  i 

The  only  thing  which  counts  is  the  actual  doing.  There  ^ 
are  those  who  say  “yes”  to  orders  but  who  after  this  do  noth¬ 
ing.  Such  men  shall  be  condemned  more  severely  than  those 
who  refused  openly  and  then  afterwards,  repentant,  obeyed.' 
A  father  had  two  sons  and  said  to  the  older,  “Son,  go  work 
to-day  in  my  vineyard.”  And  the  son  answered,  “I  go,  sir,” 
but  instead  of  going  to  work  in  the  vineyard  he  lay  down  in 
the  shade  to  sleep.  And  the  father  said  to  the  second,  “Go 
too  and  work  with  your  brother.”  But  the  son  answered,  “No, 
to-day  I  wish  to  rest  because  I  am  not  well.”  But  later,  think¬ 
ing  of  the  old  man  who  could  not  do  the  work  himself  any 
longer,  he  took  back  his  refusal,  overcame  his  indolence  and 
went  to  the  vineyard  and  worked  with  a  will  till  evening. 

To  listen  to  the  word  of  the  Kingdom  is  not  enough.  To 
consent  verbally  and  to  live  just  as  before,  without  effort  to 
change  the  heart,  is  less  than  nothing.  “Whosoever  cometh  to 
me,  and  heareth  my  sayings,  and  doeth  them,  I  will  show  you 
to  whom  he  is  like  ;  He  is  like  a  man  which  built  an  house,  and 
digged  deep,  and  laid  the  foundation  on  a  rock,  and  when  the 
flood  arose,  the  stream  beat  vehemently  upon  that  house,  and 
could  not  shake  it,  for  it  was  founded  upon  a  rock.  But  he 
that  heareth  and  doeth  not,  is  like  a  man  that  without  a  foun¬ 
dation  built  an  house  upon  the  earth  ;  against  which  the  stream 
did  beat  vehemently,  and  immediately  it  fell  ;  and  the  ruin  of 
that  house  was  great.” 

The  same  teaching  is  in  the  Parable  of  the  Sowing,  “A 
sower  went  out  to  sow  his  seed  :  and  as  he  sowed,  some  fell 
by  the  wayside;  and  it  was  trodden  down,  and  the  fowls  of 
the  air  devoured  it,  and  some  fell  upon  a  rock;  and  as  soon 
as  it  was  sprung  up,  it  withered  away,  because  it  lacked  mois¬ 
ture.  And  some  fell  among  thorns;  and  the  thorns  sprang  upi 
with  it  and  choked  it.  And  other  fell  on  good  ground,  and! 
sprang  up  and  bare  fruit  an  hundredfold.”  This  is  the  Parable 
which  the  Twelve  were  incapable  of  understanding.  Jesus  was 
obliged  to  explain  it  Himself.  The  seed  is  the  Word  of  God. 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


159 


Those  by  the  wayside  are  they  that  hear,  then  cometh  Satan 
and  taketh  the  Word  out  of  their  hearts  lest  they  should  believe 
and  be  saved.  They  on  the  rock  are  they  which  when  they 
hear  receive  the  Word  with  joy,  and  these  have  no  root  which 
for  a  while  believe  and  in  time  of  temptation  fall  away.  And 
that  which  fell  among  thorns  are  they  which  when  they  have 
heard  go  forth  and  are  choked  with  cares  and  riches  and  pleas¬ 
ures  of  this  life,  and  bring  no  fruit  to  perfection.  But  that  on 
the  good  ground  are  they  which  in  an  honest  and  good  heart 
having  heard  the  Word  keep  it  and  bring  forth  fruit  with 
patience.  But  it  is  not  enough  to  hear  it  merely,  to  under¬ 
stand  it,  to  practice  it.  He  who  has  received  it  should  not 
keep  it  to  himself.  Who  is  the  man  who  having  a  lamp  hides 
it  under  the  bed  or  covers  it  with  a  vessel?  The  light  should 
stand  high  in  the  center  of  the  room  that  they  which  enter  in 
may  see  it  and  be  lighted. 

A  Lord  traveling  into  a  far  country  left  to  each  of  his 
servants  ten  talents  with  the  understanding  that  they  should 
use  the  money  to  good  purpose.  And  when  he  came  back  he 
reckoned  with  them.  And  the  first  delivered  to  him  twenty 
talents,  because  with  the  first  ten  he  had  earned  ten  other 
talents.  And  the  Lord  made  him  steward  over  all  his  goods. 
And  the  second  delivered  him  fifteen  talents,  for  he  had  not 
been  able  to  earn  more  than  five  more.  But  the  third  presented 
himself  timorously  and  showed  him,  wrapped  up  in  a  napkin, 
the  ten  talents  which  he  had  received.  ‘Tord,  I  knew  thee 
that  thou  art  an  hard  man,  reaping  where  thou  hast  not  sown, 
and  gathering  where  thou  hast  not  strawed:  And  I  was  afraid, 
and  went  and  hid  thy  talents  in  the  earth.^’  And  the  Lord 
answered,  ‘Thou  wicked  and  slothful  servant,  I  will  judge 
thee  by  thine  own  words.  Take  the  talents  and  give  them 
to  him  who  has  twenty.’’  But  he  has  already  plenty.  “I 
say  unto  you,”  answered  the  Lord,  “For  unto  every  one 
that  hath  shall  be  given,  and  he  shall  have  abundance:  but 
from  him  that  hath  not  shall  be  taken  away  even  that  which 
he  hath.”  And  the  unprofitable  servant  was  cast  into  outer 
darkness,  where  there  was  weeping  and  gnashing  of  teeth. 
He  who  has  received  the  Word  ought  to  double  his  wealth. 


i6o 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


He  has  received  so  great  a  treasure  that  if  he  leaves  it  useless, 
he  deserves  to  have  it  taken  away  from  him.  From  him  who 
does  not  add  to  it  shall  be  taken  away  even  that  which  he 
has,  and  unto  him  who  has  doubled  his  treasures  shall  be  given 
even  more.  Those  who  do  not  use  the  treasure  of  the 
Word  are  not  poverty-stricken  men  who  need  gifts  because 
they  are  destitute,  but  faithless  and  slothful  husband¬ 
men,  to  whom  was  entrusted  the  most  fruitful  field  in  all 
the  universe.  Happy  the  steward  whom  the  Master  shall  find 
attentive  to  act  justly  and  to  give  to  all  their  rightful  part 
of  the  harvest.  But  if  the  steward  begins  to  oppress  the  serv¬ 
ing  men  and  women  and  thinks  only  of  eating  and  getting 
drunk  he  will  be  scourged  and  punished  when  the  Master  re¬ 
turns,  just  punishment  for  the  faithless! 

The  servant  who  does  not  know  what  the  Master  wishes 
done,  and  so,  not  knowing,  does  not  carry  out  His  wishes, 
shall  be  less  punished  than  he  who  knew,  and  still  does  the 
contrary,  for  he  shall  be  driven  out  of  the  house  v/here  he 
gave  orders.  The  bearers  of  the  Word  have  no  excuse  if 
they  are  not  the  first  to  obey  God’s  wishes.  From  him 
to  whom  much  was  given,  much  shall  be  required. 

THE  PRODIGAL  SON 

A  man  had  two  sons.  His  wife  was  dead,  but  he  still  had 
these  tv\^o  sons,  only  two.  But  two  are  always  better  than 
one.  If  the  first  is  away  from  home,  the  second  is  still  there; 
if  the  younger  fall  ill,  the  older  works  for  two;  if  one  should 
die  .  .  .  even  children  die,  even  the  young  die,  and  sometimes 
before  the  old  ...  if  one  of  the  two  should  die,  there  is 
at  least  one  left  who  will  care  for  the  poor  father. 

This  man  loved  his  sons,  not  only  because  they  were  of  his 
blood  but  because  he  had  a  loving  heart.  He  loved  them  both, 
the  older  and  the  younger;  perhaps  the  younger  a  little  more 
than  the  older,  but  so  little  that  he  did  not  realize  it  himself. 
Fathers  and  mothers  often  have  a  weakness  for  the  youngest 
because  he  is  the  smallest,  he  is  the  sweetest,  he  is  the  last 
baby,  and  after  his  birth  there  was  never  another  one,  so  that 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


i6i 


his  boyhood,  still  so  recent,  so  prolonged,  stretches  out  to  the 
sill  of  his  young  manhood  like  a  lingering  halo  of  tenderness. 
It  seems  only  yesterday  that  he  was  a  baby  at  the  breast, 
that  he  took  his  first  stumbling  steps,  that  he  sprang  up  to 
embrace  his  father,  or  sat  astride  his  knees. 

But  this  man  was  not  partial.  He  loved  his  sons  ‘like  his 
two  eyes  and  his  two  hands,  equally  dear,  one  at  the  left, 
one  at  the  right,  and  he  saw  to  it  that  both  were  happy.  Noth¬ 
ing  lacked  for  either  one. 

And  yet,  even  in  the  case  of  sons  of  one  father,  it  almost 
never  happens  that  tv>^o  brothers  have  the  same  tastes  or  even 
similar  tastes.  The  older  was  a  serious-minded  young  man, 
sedate,  settled,  who  seemed  already  grown  up  and  mature,  a 
husband,  the  head  of  a  family.  He  respected  his  father,  but 
more  as  master  than  as  father,  without  any  impulsive  show 
of  affection.  He  worked  faithfully,  but  he  was  hard  and  cap¬ 
tious  with  the  servants;  he  went  through  all  the  religious 
forms,  but  did  not  let  the  poor  come  about  him.  Although 
the  house  was  full  of  all  possible  good  things,  yet  for  them 
there  was  never  anything.  He  pretended  to  love  his  brother, 
but  his  heart  was  full  of  the  poison  of  envy.  When  people 
say  ^^to  love  like  a  brother”  they  say  the  contrary  of  what 
ought  to  be  said.  Brothers  very  rarely  love  each  other.  Jew¬ 
ish  history,  not  to  speak  of  any  other,  begins  with  Cain, 
goes  on  with  Jacob’s  cheating  Esau,  with  Joseph  sold  by  his 
brothers,  with  Absalom,  who  killed  Amon,  with  Solomon  who 
had  Adonijah  killed:  a  long  bloody  road  of  jealousy,  opposi¬ 
tion  and  betrayal.  It  would  be  more  correct  to  say  ^^a  father’s 
love,”  rather  than  a  brother’s. 

The  second  son  seemed  of  another  race.  He  was  younger 
and  was  not  ashamed  to  be  young.  He  splashed  about  and 
made  merry  in  his  youth  as  in  a  warm  lake.  He  had  all  the 
desires,  the  graces,  and  the  defects  of  his  age.  He  was  fitful 
with  his  father.  One  day  he  hurt  him,  the  next,  put  him  into 
the  seventh  heaven;  he  was  capable  of  not  saying  a  word  for 
weeks  together  and  then  suddenly  throwing  himself  on  his 
father’s  neck  in  the  highest  spirits.  Good  times  with  his 
friends  were  more  to  his  taste  than  work.  He  refused  no  in- 


11 

l\ 


102 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


vitations  to  drink,  stared  at  women  and  dressed  better  than 
other  people.  But  he  was  warmhearted;  he  gave  money  to 
the  needy,  was  charitable  without  boasting  of  it,  never  sent 
away  any  one  disconsolate.  He  was  seldom  seen  at  the  syna¬ 
gogue,  and  for  this  and  for  other  reasons  the  middle-class 
people  of  the  neighborhood,  timid,  colorless  people,  religious 
and  self-seeking,  did  not  think  well  of  him  and  advised  their 
sons  to  have  nothing  to  do  with  him.  So  much  the  more  be¬ 
cause  the  young  man  wanted  to  spend  more  than  his  father’s 
resources  allowed  him — a  good  man,  they  said,  but  weak  and 
blinded — and  because  he  talked  recklessly  and  said  things 
which  were  not  fitting  for  the  son  of  a  good  family  brought  up 
as  he  ought  to  be.  The  little  life  of  that  little  country  hole 
was  repugnant  to  him;  he  said  it  was  better  to  look  for  ad¬ 
venture  in  rich  countries,  populous,  far  away,  beyond  the 
mountains  and  the  sea,  where  the  big,  luxurious  cities  are,  with 
marble  buildings  and  the  best  wines  and  shops  full  of  silk  and 
silver,  and  women  dressed  in  fine  clothes  like  queens  fresh 
from  aromatic  baths  who  lightly  give  themselves  for  a  piece 
of  gold. 

There  in  the  country  you  had  to  obey  orders  and  work 
hard,  and  there  was  no  outlet  for  gypsy-like  and  nomadic 
tastes.  His  father,  although  he  was  rich,  although  he  was  good, 
measured  out  the  drachma  as  if  they  were  talents.  His  brother 
was  vexed  if  he  bought  a  new  tunic  or  came  home  a  little  tipsy; 
in  the  family  all  they  knew  was  the  field,  the  furrow,  the  pas¬ 
ture,  the  stock;  a  life  that  was  not  a  life  but  one  long  effort. 

And  one  day  (he  had  thought  of  it  many  times  before,  but 
had  never  had  the  courage  to  say  it)  he  hardened  his  heart 
and  his  face  and  said  to  his  father,  “Father,  give  me  the  por¬ 
tion  of  goods  that  falleth  to  me,  and  I  will  ask  nothing  more 
of  thee.” 

When  the  old  man  heard  this,  he  was  deeply  hurt,  but  he 
made  no  answer,  and  went  away  into  his  room  that  his  tears 
should  not  be  seen,  and  for  a  while  neither  of  them  spoke  any 
more  of  this  matter.  But  the  son  suffered,  was  sullen,  and 
lost  all  his  ardor  and  animation  even  to  the  fresh  color  of  his 
face.  And  the  father,  seeing  his  son  suffer,  suffered  himself, 


'■/i 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


163 


and  yet  suffered  more  at  the  thought  of  losing  him.  But  fi¬ 
nally  paternal  love  conquered  self-love.  The  estimations  and 
valuations  of  the  property  were  made,  and  the  father  gave  to 
both  his  sons  their  rightful  part  and  kept  the  rest  for  himself. 
The  young  man  lost  no  time,  he  sold  what  he  could  not  carry 
away,  gathered  together  a  goodly  sum,  and  one  evening,  with¬ 
out  saying  anything  to  any  one,  mounted  his  fine  horse  and 
went  away.  The  older  brother  was  rather  pleased  by  his  de¬ 
parture;  the  younger  would  never  have  the  courage  to  come 
back;  so  now  he  was  the  only  son,  first  in  command,  and  no 
one  would  take  away  the  rest  of  his  inheritance  from  him. 

But  the  father  secretly  wept  many  tears,  all  the  tears  of 
his  old  wrinkled  eyelids.  Every  line  of  his  old  face  was  washed 
with  tears,  his  aged  cheeks  were  soaked  with  his  grieving.  His 
son  was  gone  and  he  needed  all  the  love  of  the  remaining  son 
to  make  up  for  the  sorrow  of  the  separation. 

But  he  had  an  intuition  that  perhaps  he  had  not  lost  his  son 
forever,  his  second-born,  that  before  his  death  he  would  have 
the  happiness  to  kiss  him  again;  and  this  idea  helped  him  to 
endure  the  loneliness. 

In  the  meantime  the  young  man  drew  rapidly  near  to  the 
rich  city  of  revels  where  he  meant  to  live.  At  every 
turning  of  the  road  he  felt  of  the  money-bags  which  hung  at 
either  side  of  his  saddle.  He  soon  arrived  at  the  city  of  his 
desire  and  began  his  feasting.  It  seemed  to  him  that  those 
thousands  of  coins  would  last  forever.  He  rented  a  fine  house, 
bought  five  or  six  slaves,  dressed  like  a  prince,  and  soon  had 
men  and  women  friends  who  were  guests  at  his  table,  and 
who  drank  his  wine  till  their  stomachs  could  hold  no  more. 
He  did  not  economize  with  women  and  chose  the  most  beautiful 
the  city  contained,  those  who  knew  how  to  dance  and  sing  and 
dress  with  magnificence,  and  undress  with  grace.  No  presents 
i  seemed  too  fine  or  too  rich  to  please  those  bodies  which  aban- 
i  doned  themselves  with  such  voluptuous  softness,  and  which 
I  gave  him  the  wildest,  most  torturing  pleasure.  The  little  pro- 
I  vincial  lord  from  the  dull  country,  repressed  in  the  most  sensual 
‘  period  of  his  life,  now  vented  his  voluptuousness,  his  love  of 
!  luxury,  in  this  dangerous  life. 


164 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


Such  a  life  could  not  go  on  forever:  the  money  bags  of  thi 
prodigal  son  were  not  bottomless — no  money  bags  are — an( 
there  came  a  day  when  there  was  neither  gold  nor  silver,  an( 
not  even  copper,  but  only  empty  bags  of  canvas  and  leathe: 
lying  limp  and  flabby  on  the  brick  floor  of  his  room.  Hi: 
friends  disappeared,  the  women  disappeared,  slaves,  beds  anc 
dining-tables  were  sold.  With  the  proceeds  he  had  enough  t( 
buy  food,  but  only  for  a  short  time.  To  complete  his  misfor 
tune,  a  famine  came  on  the  country  and  the  prodigal  soi 
found  himself  hungering  in  the  midst  of  a  famine-strickei 
people.  The  women  had  gone  off  to  other  cities  where  th( 
situation  was  better;  the  friends  of  his  drunken  night-reveli 
had  hard  work  to  look  out  for  themselves. 

The  unfortunate  man,  stripped  and  destitute,  left  the  city 
traveling  with  a  lord  who  was  going  to  the  country  when 
he  had  a  fine  estate.  He  begged  him  for  work,  till  the  lore 
hired  him  as  swine-herd  because  he  was  young  and  strong  anc 
hardly  any  one  was  willing  to  be  a  swine-herd.  For  a  Je\^ 
nothing  could  be  a  greater  affliction  than  this.-  Even  in  Egypt 
although  animals  were  adored  there,  the  only  people  forbidder 
to  enter  the  temples  were  swine-herds.  No  father  would  hav( 
given  his  daughter  to  wife  to  a  swine-herd  and  no  man  for  al 
the  gold  in  the  world  would  have  married  the  daughter  of  a 
swine-herd. 

But  the  prodigal  son  had  no  choice  and  was  forced  to  leac 
the  herd  of  swine  out  to  the  pasture.  He  was  given  no  paj 
and  very  little  to  eat,  because  there  was  only  a  little  for  anj 
one;  but  there  was  no  famine  for  the  hogs,  because  they  couk 
eat  anything.  There  were  plenty  of  carob  beans  and  the] 
gorged  themselves  on  those.  Their  hungry  attendant  enviousb 
watched  the  pink  and  black  animals  rooting  in  the  earth,  chew 
ing  beans  and  roots,  and  longed  to  fill  his  stomach  with  th( 
same  stuff  and  wept,  remembering  the  abundance  of  his  owi 
home  and  his  festivals  in  the  great  city.  Sometimes  overcomi 
with  hunger  he  took  one  of  the  black  bean-husks,  from  unde 
the  grunting  snouts  of  the  pigs,  tempering  the  bitterness  o' 
his  suffering  with  that  insipid  and  woody  food.  And  woe  t<| 
him  if  his  employer  had  seen  him!  ^ 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


165 

His  dress  was  a  dirty  slave’s  smock  which  smelt  of  manure, 
bis  foot-gear  a  pair  of  worn-out  sandals  scarcely  held  together 
with  rushes;  on  his  head  a  faded  hood.  His  fair  young  face, 
tanned  by  the  sun  of  the  hills,  was  thin  and  long,  and  had 
taken  a  sickly  color  between  gray  and  brown. 

Who  was  wearing  now  the  spotless  home-spun  clothes,  which 
le  had  left  in  his  brother’s  chests?  Where  now  were  the  fair 
silken  tunics  dyed  purple  which  he  had  sold  for  so  little?  His 
father’s  hired  servants  were  better  dressed  than  he,  and  they 
ifared  better  than  he. 

Returned  to  his  senses,  he  said  to  himself,  ^^How  many  hired 
lervants  of  my  father’s  have  bread  enough  and  to  spare,  and 
I  perish  with  hunger!”  Until  now  he  had  brushed  away  the 
dea  of  going  home  as  soon  as  it  had  appeared.  How  could 
le  bear  to  go  back  in  this  condition  and  give  in  to  his  brother 
ifter  having  despised  his  home,  after  having  made  his  father 
[veep?  To  return  without  a  garment,  unshod,  without  a  penny, 
without  the  ring — the  sign  of  liberty — uncomely,  disfigured  by 
jhis  famished  slavery,  stinking  and  contaminated  by  this  abom- 
jnable  trade,  to  show  that  the  wise  old  neighbors  were  right, 
ihat  his  serious-minded  brother  was  right,  to  bow  himself  at 
ihe  knee  of  the  old  man  whom  he  had  left  without  a  greeting, 
0  return  with  opprobrium  as  a  ragged  fellow  to  the  spot  from 
vhich  he  had  departed  as  a  king!  To  come  back  to  the  soup- 
plate  into  which  he  had  spit — into  a  house  which  contained 
lothing  of  his! 

No,  there  was  something  of  his  always  in  his  home,  his 
father!  If  he  belonged  to  his  father,  his  father  belonged  also 
*0  him.  He  was  his  creation,  made  of  his  flesh,  issued 
rom  his  seed  in  a  moment  of  love.  Though  hurt,  his  father 
[vould  never  drive  away  his  own  flesh  and  blood.  If  he  would 
^t  take  him  back  as  son,  at  least  he  would  take  him  back 
l^s  a  hired  servant,  as  he  would  any  stranger,  like  a  man  born 
pf  another  father.  “I  will  arise  and  go  to  my  father,  and  will 
||ay  unto  him,  Father,  I  have  sinned  against  heaven  and 
before  thee.  And  am  no  more  worthy  to  be  called  thy  son: 
Ipake  me  as  one  of  thy  hired  servants.”  I  do  not  come  back 
‘is  son  but  as  servant,  a  worker,  and  I  do  not  ask  love  from 


i66  LIFE  OF  CHRIST 

you,  for  I  have  no  more  right  to  that,  but  only  a  little  bread 
from  your  kitchen. 

And  the  young  man  gave  back  the  hogs  to  his  master,  and 
went  towards  his  own  land.  He  begged  a  piece  of  bread  from 
the  country  people,  and  wept  salt  tears  as  he  ate  this  bread  of 
pity  and  charity  in  the  shadow  of  the  sycamores.  His  sore 
and  blistered  feet  could  scarcely  carry  him.  He  was  barefoot 
now,  but  his  faith  in  forgiveness  led  him  homeward  step  by 
step. 

And  finally  one  day  at  noon  he  arrived  in  sight  of  his 
father’s  house;  but  he  did  not  dare  to  knock,  nor  to  call  any 
one,  nor  to  go  in.  He  hung  around  outside  to  see  if  any  one 
would  come  out.  And  behold,  his  father  appeared  on  the 
threshold.  His  son  was  no  longer  the  same,  was  changed,  but 
the  eyes  of  a  father  even  dimmed  by  weeping  could  not  fail  to 
recognize  him.  He  ran  towards  him  and  caught  him  to  his 
breast,  and  kissed  him  and  kissed  him  again,  and  could  not 
stop  from  pressing  his  pale,  old  lips  on  that  ravaged  face,  on 
those  eyes  whose  expression  was  altered  but  still  beautiful,  on 
that  hair,  dusty  but  still  waving  and  soft,  on  that  flesh  that 
was  his  own. 

The  son,  covered  with  confusion  and  deeply  moved,  did  not 
know  how  to  respond  to  these  kisses,  and  as  soon  as  he  could 
free  himself  from  his  father’s  arms  he  threw  himself  on  the 
ground  and  repeated  tremulously  the  speech  he  had  prepared. 
“Father,  I  have  sinned  against  heaven  and  before  thee.  And 
am  no  more  worthy  to  be  called  thy  son.” 

But  if  the  young  man  had  brought  himself  to  the  point  of 
refusing  the  name  of  son,  the  old  man  never  felt  himself  more 
father  than  at  this  moment;  he  seemed  to  become  a  father  for  a 
second  time,  and  without  even  answering,  with  his  eyes  still 
clouded  and  soft,  but  with  the  ringing  voice  of  his  best  days, 
he  called  to  the  servants: 

“Bring  forth  the  best  robe,  and  put  it  on  him;  and  put  a 
ring  on  his  hand,  and  shoes  on  his  feet.” 

The  son  of  the  master  should  not  return  home  wretchedly 
dressed  like  a  beggar.  The  finest  garment  should  be  given 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST  167 

him,  new  shoes,  a  ring  on  his  finger,  and  the  servants  must 
wait  on  him  because  he,  too,  is  a  master. 

‘‘And  bring  hither  the  fatted  calf;  and  kill  it,  and  let  us 
eat  and  be  merry:  For  this  my  son  was  dead,  and  is  alive 
again;  he  was  lost,  and  is  found.” 

The  fatted  calf  was  kept  in  reserve  for  great  feast  days: 
but  what  festival  can  be  greater  for  me  than  this  one?  I  had 
wept  for  my  son  as  dead  and  here  he  is  alive  with  me.  I  had 
lost  him  in  the  world  and  the  world  has  delivered  him  back  to 
me.  He  was  far  away  and  now  is  with  me,  he  was  a  beggar 
at  the  doors  of  strange  houses,  and  now  is  master  in  his  own 
house;  he  was  famished  and  now  he  shall  be  served  with  a  ban¬ 
quet  at  his  own  table. 

And  the  servants  obeyed  him  and  the  calf  was  killed, 
skinned,  cut  up  and  put  to  cook.  The  oldest  wine  was  taken 
from  the  wine-cellar,  and  the  finest  room  was  prepared  for  the 
dinner  in  celebration  of  the  return.  Servants  went  to  call  his 
lather’s  friends  and  others  went  to  summon  musicians,  that 
here  should  be  music.  And  when  everything  was  ready,  when 
he  son  had  been  bathed,  and  his  father  had  kissed  him  many 
times  more — almost  as  if  to  assure  himself  with  his  lips  that 
,iis  true  son  was  there  with  him  and  it  was  not  the  vision  of  a 
dream — they  commenced  the  banquet,  the  wines  were  mixed 
and  the  musicians  accompanied  the  songs  of  joy. 

The  older  son  was  in  the  field,  working,  and  in  the  evening 
>vhen  he  came  back  and  was  near  to  the  house  he  heard  shouts 
and  stampings  and  clapping  of  hands,  and  the  footsteps  of 
dancers.  And  he  could  not  understand.  “Whatever  can  have 
Happened  ?  Perhaps  my  father  has  gone  crazy  or  perhaps  a 
'ivedding  procession  has  arrived  unexpectedly  at  our  house.” 
^  Disliking  noise  and  new  faces,  he  would  not  enter  and  see 
:or  himself  what  it  was.  But  he  called  to  a  boy  coming  out 
')f  the  house  and  asked  him  what  all  that  clatter  was. 

;  “Thy  brother  is  come;  and  thy  father  hath  killed  the  fatted 
'^.alf,  because  he  hath  received  him  safe  and  sound.” 
j  These  words  were  like  a  thrust  at  his  heart.  He  turned  pale, 
lot  with  pleasure,  but  with  rage  and  jealousy.  The  old  envy 


i68 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


boiled  up  inside.  It  seemed  to  him  that  he  had  all  the  right  on 
his  side,  and  he  would  not  go  into  the  house,  but  stayed  out¬ 
side,  angry. 

Then  his  father  went  out  and  entreated  him:  ‘^Come,  foi 
your  brother  has  come  back  and  has  asked  after  you,  and  will 
be  glad  to  see  you,  and  we  v/ill  feast  together.” 

But  the  serious-minded  young  man  could  not  contain  him¬ 
self,  and  for  the  first  time  in  his  life  ventured  to  reprove  his 
father  to  his  face. 

^To,  these  many  years  do  I  serve  thee,  neither  transgressed 
I  at  any  time  thy  commandment;  yet  thou  never  gavest  me 
a  kid,  that  I  might  make  merry  with  my  friends:  But  as  soor 
as  this  thy  son  was  come,  which  hath  devoured  thy  living 
with  harlots,  thou  hast  killed  for  him  the  fatted  calf.” 

With  these  few  words  he  discloses  all  the  ignominy  of  his 
soul  hidden  until  then  under  the  Pharisaical  cloak  of  good  be¬ 
havior.  He  reproaches  his  father  with  his  own  obedience,  he 
reproaches  him  with  his  avarice.  “You  have  never  given  me 
even  a  kid” — and  he  reproaches  him,  he,  a  -loveless  son,  for 
being  a  too-loving  father.  “This  thy  son.”  He  does  not  say 
“brother.”  His  father  may  recognize  him  as  son,  but  he  will 
not  recognize  him  as  brother.  “He  hath  devoured  thy  living 
with  harlots.  Money  that  was  not  his,  with  women  that  were 
not  his;  while  I  stayed  with  thee  sweating  on  thy  fields  with 
no  recompense.” 

But  his  father  pardoned  this  son,  as  he  did  the  other  son. 
“Son,  thou  art  ever  with  me,  and  all  that  I  have  is  thine.  It 
was  meet  that  we  should  make  merry,  and  be  glad;  for  this 
thy  brother  was  dead,  and  is  alive  again;  and  was  lost,  and  is 
found.” 

The  father  is  sure  that  these  words  will  be  enough  to  silence 
the  other.  “He  was  dead  and  is  alive  again,  was  lost  and  is 
found.  What  other  reasons  can  be  needed,  and  what  othei 
reasons  can  be  better  than  these — grant  that  he  has  done  what 
he  has  done,  that  he  has  spent  my  money  on  women;  he  has. 
dissipated  as  much  as  he  could;  he  left  me  without  a  greeting ;j 
he  left  me  to  weep.  He  could  have  done  worse  than  that  anc 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


169 


:ill  would  have  been  my  son.  He  could  have  stolen  on  the 
.reets,  could  have  murdered  the  guiltless,  he  could  have  of- 
mded  me  even  more,  but  I  never  could  forget  that  he  is  my 
)n,  my  own  blood.  He  was  gone  and  has  returned,  was  dis- 
opeared  and  has  reappeared,  was  lost  and  is  found,  was  dead 
id  is  alive  again.  This  is  enough  for  me  and  to  celebrate  this 
liracle  a  fatted  calf  seems  little  to  me.  Thou  hast  never  left 
le,  I  always  enjoyed  thee,  all  my  kids  are  thine  if  thou  asketh 
)r  them;  thou  hast  eaten  every  day  at  my  table;  but  he  was 
one  for  so  many  days  and  weeks  and  months!  I  saw  him 
aly  in  my  dreams;  he  has  not  eaten  a  single  piece  of  bread 
rith  me  in  all  that  time.  Have  I  not  the  right  to  triumph  at 
ast  this  day?’’ 

Jesus  stopped  here.  He  did  not  go  on  with  His  story.  There 
as  no  need  of  that,  the  meaning  of  the  parable  is  clear  with 
o  additions.  But  no  story — after  that  of  Joseph — that  ever 
ime  from  human  lips  is  more  beautiful  than  this  one  or  ever 
mched  more  deeply  the  hearts  of  men.  Interpreters  are  free 
)  comment  and  explain,  that  the  prodigal  son  is  the  new  man 
urified  by  the  experience  of  grief,  and  the  older  son,  the 
harisee  who  observes  the  old  law  but  does  not  know  love.  Or 
se  that  the  older  son  is  the  Jewish  people  who  do  not  under¬ 
and  the  love  of  the  Father  welcoming  the  pagan,  although  he 
ad  wallowed  in  the  foul  loves  of  paganism  and  had  lived  in 
le  company  of  swine. 

Jesus  was  no  maker  of  riddles.  He  Himself  says  expressly 
'lat  the  meaning  of  this  and  similar  parables  is:  ‘‘More  joy 
aall  be  in  Heaven  over  one  sinner  who  repents  than  over  all 
le  righteous”  who  vaunt  themselves  in  their  false  righteous- 
ess;  than  for  all  the  pure  who  are  proud  of  their  external 
urity;  than  for  all  the  zealots  who  hide  the  aridity  of  their 
earts  by  their  apparent  respect  for  the  law. 

The  truly  righteous  will  be  received  in  the  Kingdom,  but  no 
ne  ever  doubted  them,  they  have  made  no  one  tremble  and 
offer  and  there  is  no  need  to  rejoice;  but  for  him  who  has 
een  near  perdition,  who  has  gone  through  deep  sufferings  to 
lake  himself  a  new  soul,  to  overcome  his  bestiality,  who  merits 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


170 

his  place  in  the  Kingdom  the  more  because  he  has  had  tc 
deny  all  his  past  to  obtain  it,  for  him  songs  of  triumph  shal, 
arise.  | 

“What  man  of  you  having  an  hundred  sheep,  if  he  lose  on« 
of  them,  doth  not  leave  the  ninety  and  nine  in  the  wilderness  i 
and  go  after  that  which  is  lost,  until  he  find  it?  And  when  hi  : 
hath  found  it,  he  layeth  it  on  his  shoulders,  rejoicing.  An(  1 
when  he  cometh  home,  he  calleth  together  his  friends  an( 
neighbors,  saying  unto  them,  Rejoice  with  me;  for  I  havij 
found  my  sheep  which  was  lost.” 

Either  what  woman  having  ten  pieces  of  silver,  if  she  losi  : 
one  piece,  doth  not  light  a  candle,  and  sweep  the  house,  amj 
seek  diligently  till  she  find  it?  And  when  she  hath  found  i 
she  calleth  her  friends  and  her  neighbors  together,  saying,  “Re  i 
joice  with  me;  for  I  have  found  the  piece  which  I  had  lost.”  i 
And  what  is  a  sheep  compared  to  a  son  returned  to  life,  to  i  *: 
man  saved?  And  of  what  value  is  a  piece  of  silver  comparaci 
to  one  astray,  who  finds  holiness  again?  ^ 

i 

i; 

THE  PARABLES  OF  SIN 

But  forgiveness  creates  an  obligation  for  which  there  are  m 
exceptions  allowed.  Love  is  a  fire  v/hich  goes  out  if  it  does  no 
kindle  others.  Thou  hast  burned  with  joy;  kindle  him  whey 
comes  near  you  if  thou  wilt  not  become  like  stone,  smoky  bu 
cold.  He  who  has  received  must  give;  it  is  better  to  giv 
much,  but  it  is  essential  to  give  a  part  at  least. 

A  king  one  day  wanted  a  reckoning  with  his  servants  am 
one  by  one  he  called  them  before  him.  Among  the  first  wa 
one  who  owed  him  ten  thousand  talents,  but  as  he  had  no 
anything  to  pay  this,  the  king  commanded  that  he  should  b 
sold  and  his  wife  and  his  children  and  all  that  he  had,  in  pay 
ment  of  a  part  of  the  debt.  The  servant  in  despair  threw  him^ 
self  at  the  feet  of  the  king.  He  seemed  a  mere  bundle  of  gar 
ments  crying  out  sobs  and  promises.  “Have  patience  wit 
me,  wait  a  little  longer  and  I  will  pay  you  all,  but  do  not  hav 
my  wife  and  my  children  separated  from  me,  sent  away  lik 
cattle,  no  one  knows  where.” 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


171 

The  king  was  moved  with  compassion — he  also  had  little 
children — and  he  sent  him  away  free  and  forgave  him  that 
great  debt.  The  servant  went  out  and  seemed  another  man; 
but  his  heart,  even  after  so  much  mercy  shown  to  him,  was 
the  same  as  before.  And  he  met  one  of  his  fellow-servants 
•  who  owed  him  a  hundred  pence,  a  small  thing  compared  with 
ten  thousand  talents,  and  he  sprang  on  him  and  took  him  by 
the  throat.  ^Tay  me  what  thou  owest  and  at  once,  or  I  will 
have  thee  bound  by  the  guards.”  The  unlucky  man  assaulted 
in  this  way  did  what  his  persecutor  had  done  a  little  while 
before  in  the  presence  of  the  king.  He  fell  down  at  his  feet 
and  besought  him  and  wept  and  swore  that  he  would  pay  him 
in  a  few  days  and  kissed  the  hem  of  his  garment,  and  recalled 
to  him  their  old  comradeship  and  begged  him  to  wait  in  the 
name  of  the  children  who  were  waiting  for  him  in  his  home. 

But  the  oaf,  who  was  a  servant  and  not  a  king,  had  no  com¬ 
passion.  He  took  his  debtor  by  the  arm  and  had  him  cast  into 
prison.  The  news  spread  abroad  among  the  other  servants  of 
the  palace.  They  v/ere  full  of  compassion,  and  it  came 
quickly  to  the  ears  of  the  king,  who  called  that  pitiless  man 
and  delivered  him  to  the  tormentors:  forgave  you  that  great 

debt,  shouldst  thou  not  have  had  compassion  on  thy  brother, 
for  his  debt  was  so  much  smaller?  I  had  pity  on  thee,  ought- 
test  thou  not  to  have  had  pity  on  him?” 

!  Sinners  when  they  recognize  the  evil  which  is  in  their  hearts 
and  abjure  it  with  true  humility  are  nearer  to  the  Kingdom 
than  pious  men  who  daub  themselves  with  the  praise  of  their 
own  piety. 

^  Two  men  went  up  into  the  temple  to  pray;  the  one  a  Phari¬ 
see,  the  other  a  Publican.  The  Pharisee,  with  his  phylacteries 
banging  upon  his  forehead  and  on  his  left  arm,  with  the  long, 
glittering  fringes  on  his  cloak,  erect  like  a  man  who  feels  him- 
jelf  in  his  own  house,  prayed  thus:  “God,  I  thank  thee  that  I 
am  not  as  other  men  are,  extortioners,  unjust,  adulterers,  or 
iven  as  this  Publican.  I  fast  twice  in  the  week,  I  give  tithes 
of  all  that  I  possess.” 

But  the  Publican  did  not  have  the  courage  even  to  lift 
bis  eyes  and  seemed  ashamed  to  appear  before  his  Lord.  He 


172 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


sighed  and  smote  on  his  breast  and  said  only  these  words: 
‘^God  be  merciful  to  me  a  sinner.’’ 

‘T  tell  you,  this  man  went  down  to  his  house  justified  rather 
than  the  other:  for  every  one  that  exalteth  himself  shall  be 
abased;  and  he  that  humbleth  himself  shall  be  exalted.” 

A  lawyer  asked  Jesus  who  is  one’s  neighbor,  and  Jesus  told 
this  story:  “A  man,  a  Jew,  went  down  from  Jerusalem  to 
Jericho  through  the  mountain  passes.  Thieves  fell  upon  him, 
and  after  they  had  wounded  him  and  taken  away  his  clothes, 
they  left  him  upon  the  road  half  dead.  A  priest  passed  that 
way,  one  of  those  who  go  to  all  the  feasts  and  meetings,  and 
boast  that  they  know  the  will  of  God  from  beginning  to  end. 
He  saw  the  unfortunate  man  stretched  out  but  he  did  not  stop, 
and  to  avoid  touching  something  unclean  he  passed  by  on  the 
other  side  of  the  road.  A  little  after  came  a  Levite.  He  also 
was  among  the  most  accredited  of  the  zealots,  knew  every  de¬ 
tail  of  all  the  holy  ceremonies,  and  seemed  more  than  a  sac¬ 
ristan,  seemed  one  of  the  masters  of  the  Temple.  He  looked 
at  the  bloody  body  and  went  on  his  way.  And  finally  came  a 
Samaritan.  To  the  Jews  the  Samaritans  were  faithless,  trait¬ 
ors,  only  slightly  less  detestable  than  the  Gentiles,  because 
they  would  not  sacrifice  at  Jerusalem  and  accept  the  reform  of 
Nehemiah.  The  Samaritan,  however,  did  not  wait  to  see  if  the 
unfortunate  man  thrown  among  the  stones  of  the  street  werej 
circumcized  or  uncircumcized,  were  a  Jew  or  a  Samaritan.  He 
came  up  close  to  him,  and  seeing  him  in  such  an  evil  pass,  he 
was  quickly  moved  to  pity,  took  down  his  flasks  from  his  sad-' 
die  and  poured  upon  his  wounds  a  little  oil,  a  little  wine,  bound 
them  up  as  well  as  he  could  with  a  handkerchief,  put  the 
stranger  across  his  ass  and  brought  him  to  an  inn,  had  him  put,, 
to  bed,  tried  to  restore  him,  giving  him  something  hot  to  drink,' 
and  did  not  leave  him  until  he  saw  him  come  to  himself  and 
able  to  speak  and  eat.  The  next  day  he  called  the  host  apart 
and  gave  him  two  pence:  ‘Take  care  of  him,  do  the  best  thou 
canst  and  whatsoever  thou  spendest  more,  when  I  come  agaiUj 
I  will  repay  thee.’ 

“The  neighbor,  then,  is  he  who  suffers,  he  who  needs  help., 
whoever  he  is,  of  whatever  nation  or  religion  he  may  be;  even^ 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


173 


thine  enemy,  if  he  needs  thee,  even  if  he  does  not  ask  help,  is 
the  first  of  ‘thy  neighbors.’  ” 

Charity  is  the  most  valid  title  for  admission  to  the  Kingdom. 
The  wealthy  glutton  knew  this,  he  who  was  clothed  in  purple 
[and  fine  linen  and  fared  sumptuously  every  day.  At  the  gate 
of  his  palace  there  was  Lazarus,  a  poor  man,  hungry,  covered 
with  sores,  who  would  have  been  glad  to  have  the  crumbs  and 
the  bones  which  fell  from  the  rich  man’s  table.  The  dogs  took 
pity  on  Lazarus  and  on  nis  wretchedness,  and  did  for  him  all 
they  could,  which  was  to  lick  his  sores.  And  he  caressed  these 
gentle,  loving  animals  with  his  thin  hands.  But  the  rich  man 
had  no  pity  on  Lazarus.  It  never  once  came  into  his  head  to 
call  him  to  his  table,  and  he  never  sent  him  a  piece  of  bread  or 
the  leavings  of  the  kitchen  destined  for  the  refuse  heap,  which 
even  the  scullions  refused  to  eat.  It  happened  that  both  of 
them,  the  poor  man  and  the  rich  man,  died,  and  the  poor  man 
iwas  welcomed  into  Abraham’s  bosom,  and  the  rich  man  was 
cast  into  the  fire  to  suffer.  From  afar  off  he  saw  Lazarus,  who 
►  was  banqueting  with  the  patriarchs,  and  from  the  midst  of  the 
fire  he  cried:  “Father  Abraham,  have  mercy  on  me,  and  send 
:]Lazarus  that  he  may  dip  the  tip  of  his  finger  in  water,  and  cool 

ry  tongue;  for  I  am  tormented  in  this  flame.” 

He  had  not  given  Lazarus  even  a  tiny  morsel  of  food  when 
%e  was  alive,  and  now  he  did  not  ask  to  be  let  out  of  the  fire, 
|nor  a  cup  of  water,  nor  even  a  draught,  nor  even  a  drop,  but 
e  was  content  with  a  little  dampness  which  would  cling  on 
he  tip  of  a  finger,  of  the  smallest  finger  of  the  poor  man.  But 
braham  answered:  “Son,  remember  that  thou  in  thy  lifetime 
eceivedst  thy  good  things,  and  likewise  Lazarus  evil  things; 
ut  now  he  is  comforted,  and  thou  art  tormented.”  If  thou 
adst  given  the  smallest  part  of  thy  dinner  to  him,  when  thou 
knewest  he  was  hungered  and  was  crouched  at  thy  door  in 
vorse  plight  than  a  dog,  and  even  the  dogs  had  more  pity  than 
hou,  if  thou  hadst  given  him  a  mouthful  of  bread  only  once, 
ii||hou  wouldst  not  need  now  to  ask  the  tip  of  his  finger  dipped 
fin  water. 


The  rich  man  delights  in  his  property  and  it  grieves  him  to 
lave  to  give  away  even  the  smallest  part  of  it  because  he 


174 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


thinks  that  this  life  will  never  end  and  that  the  future  will  be 
like  the  past.  But  death  comes  to  him  also,  and  when  he  ex¬ 
pects  it  least.  There  was  once  a  landed  proprietor  who  had  an 
especially  profitable  year  in  all  his  possessions.  He  had 
fantastic  imaginings  about  his  new  riches,  and  he  said:  “I  will 
pull  down  my  barns  and  build  greater,  and  there  will  I  bestow 
all  my  fruits  and  my  goods,  the  wheat,  the  barley  and  the  other 
grains,  and  I  will  make  other  barns  for  the  hay  and  the  straw 
and  other  stables  for  the  oxen  that  I  will  buy,  and  still  another 
stable  where  I  can  put  all  my  sheep  and  goats,  and  I  will  say 
to  my  soul:  Thou  hast  much  goods  laid  up  for  many  years; 
take  thine  ease,  eat,  drink,  and  be  merry.” 

And  the  idea  did  not  come  to  him  even  for  a  moment  that 
from  this  largesse  of  the  earth  he  could  have  put  aside  a  por¬ 
tion  to  comfort  the  poor  of  his  country.  But  on  that  very  nigh 
when  he  had  imagined  so  many  improvements  in  his  property 
the  rich  man  died,  and  the  day  after,  he  was  buried  nakec 
and  alone,  under  the  earth,  and  there  was  no  one  to  interced( 
for  him  in  Heaven. 

He  who  does  not  make  friends  among  the  poor,  who  does  no' 
use  wealth  to  comfort  poverty,  must  not  think  of  entering  intc 
the  Kingdom.  Sometimes  the  children  of  this  world  are  ir 
their  generation  wiser  than  the  children  of  light,  understam 
the  management  of  their  earthly  affairs  better  than  the  chili 
dren  of  light  understand  their  heavenly  life.  Like  tha 
steward  who  was  out  of  favor  with  his  master  and  was  obligee 
to  leave  his  position.  He  called  one  by  one  his  lord’s  debtor 
to  him,  and  canceled  a  part  of  the  debt  of  every  one,  so  tha 
when  he  was  sent  away  he  had  made  here  and  there  with  hii 
fraudulent  stratagem  so  many  friends  that  they  did  not  let  hir 
die  of  hunger.  He  had  benefited  himself  and  the  others  b'l 
cheating  and  robbing  his  master.  He  was  a  thief,  but  a  shrew» 
thief.  If  men  would  use  for  the  salvation  of  the  spirit  th- 
shrewdness  which  this  man  used  for  his  bodily  comfort,  hov 
many  more  would  be  converted  to  faith  in  the  Kingdom!  i 

He  who  is  not  converted  in  time  will  be  cut  down  like  thj 
unfruitful  fig-tree.  And  the  conversion  must  be  final,  for  fal]“ 
ing  from  grace  injures  a  man’s  soul  a  great  deal  more  than  re* 


175 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 

pentance  helps  him.  A  man  had  an  unclean  spirit  in  him  and 
succeeded  in  driving  it  away.  The  demon  walked  through 
dry  places  seeking  rest;  and  finding  none,  he  said:  will  re¬ 

turn  into  my  house  whence  I  came  out.”  It  happens  that  this 
house,  the  soul  of  that  man,  is  empty,  swept  and  garnished  so 
that  it  is  hard  to  recognize  it.  Then  the  demon  takes  to 
j  him  seven  other  spirits  more  wicked  than  himself  and  at  the 
fhead  of  the  band  he  enters  into  his  house  so  that  the  last  state 
i  of  that  man  was  worse  than  the  first. 

'  -  In  the  day  of  triumph  laments  and  excuses  will  count  less 
:i  than  the  whispering  of  the  wind  among  the  rushes.  Then  will 
'  be  made  the  last  and  irrevocable  choice,  like  that  of  the  fisher- 
iman  who,  after  having  pulled  up  from  the  sea  his  net  full  of 
ifish,  sits  down  on  the  beach  and  puts  those  fit  for  food  into  his 
baskets  and  throws  away  the  others.  A  long  truce  is  given  to 
.sinners,  that  they  may  have  all  the  time  necessary  to  change 
itheir  hearts,  but  when  that  day  has  come  he  who  has  not  ar¬ 
rived  at  the  door,  or  is  not  worthy,  will  remain  eternally 
putside. 

lij  A  good  husbandman  sowed  good  seed  in  his  field,  but  while 
fnen  slept,  his  enemy  came  and  sowed  tares  also  among  the 
ijWheat.  When  the  blade  was  sprung  up,  the  servants  of  the 
ai  household  saw  the  tares  and  came  and  told  their  master 
:l  lj>f  it. 

ll  “Wilt  thou  then  that  we  go  and  gather  them  up?”  But  he 
iji  laid,  “Nay;  lest  while  ye  gather  up  the  tares  ye  root  up  also 
itc  |he  wheat  with  them.  Let  both  grow  together  until  the  har- 
tl  l^est;  and  in  the  time  of  harvest  I  will  say  to  the  reapers, 
pather  ye  together  first  the  tares,  and  bind  them  in  bundles  to 
j  |urn  them:  but  gather  the  wheat  into  my  barn.” 

51 1  Thus  like  a  good  husbandman  Jesus  waits  for  the  day  of  the 
rf,  prvest.  One  day  an  immense  multitude  was  about  Him  to 
^  I  isten  to  Him,  and  seeing  all  these  men  and  these  women  who 
tere  hungering  after  righteousness  and  thirsting  after  love.  He 
ps  moved  with  compassion  and  said  to  His  disciples:  “The 
gl  iarvest  truly  is  plenteous  but  the  laborers  are  few;  Pray  ye 
lierefore  the  Lord  of  the  harvest,  that  he  will  send  forth  labor- 
rs  into  this  harvest.” 


176 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


His  voice  does  not  carry  everywhere,  not  even  the  Twelve 
are  enough:  others  are  necessary  to  proclaim  the  good  news, 
that  it  may  be  carried  to  all  those  who  suffer  and  who  await  it. 

THE  TWELVE 

Fate  knows  no  better  way  to  punish  the  great  for  their  great¬ 
ness  than  by  sending  them  disciples.  Every  disciple,  just  be¬ 
cause  he  is  a  disciple,  cannot  understand  all  that  his  master 
says,  but  at  very  best  only  half,  and  that  according  to  the 
kind  of  mind  he  has.  Thus  without  wishing  to  falsify  the 
teaching  of  his  master,  he  deforms  it,  vulgarizes  it,  belittles 
it,  corrupts  it. 

The  disciple  nearly  always  has  companions  and  is  jealous 
of  them;  he  would  like  to  be  at  least  first  among  those  who  are 
second;  and  accordingly  he  maligns  and  plots  against  his  fel¬ 
lows;  and  each  one  believes  that  he  is,  or  at  least  wishes  others 
to  believe  that  he  is,  the  only  perfect  interpreter  of  the  master. 

The  disciple  knows  that  he  is  a  disciple  and  sometimes  it 
shames  him  to  be  one  who  eats  at  another’s  table.  Then  he. 
twists  and  turns  the  master’s  thought  to  make  it  seem  that 
he  has  a  thought  of  his  own,  different  and  original.  Or  else, 
and  this  is  the  most  graceless  and  servile  manner  of  being  a 
disciple,  he  teaches  exactly  the  opposite  of  what  he  was  taught. 

In  every  disciple,  even  in  those  who  seem  most  loyal,  there 
is  the  seed  of  a  Judas.  A  disciple  is  a  parasite,  a  middleman 
who  robs  the  seller  and  tricks  the  buyer;  a  dependent  who,  in¬ 
vited  to  dine,  nibbles  at  the  hors  d’oeuvres,  licks  the  sauces, 
picks  at  the  fruit,  but  does  not  attack  the  bones  because  he 
has  no  teeth,  or  only  milk  teeth,  to  crack  them  and  suck  out 
the  meaty  marrow.  The  disciple  paraphrases  sentences,  ob¬ 
scures  mysteries,  complicates  what  is  clear,  multiplies  diffi- 
"  culties,  comments  on  syllables,  travesties  principles,  clouds  evi¬ 
dence,  magnifies  non-essentials,  weakens  the  essential,  dilutes 
the  strong  wine,  and  retails  this  hodge-podge  as  elixir  distilled 
and  quintessent.  Instead  of  a  torch  which  gives  light  and 
fire,  he  is  a  smoky  wick  giving  no  light  even  to  himself. 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


177 


And  yet  no  one  has  been  able  to  dispense  with  these  pupils 
and  followers,  nor  even  to  wish  to.  For  the  great  man  is  so 
foreign  to  the  multitude,  so  distant,  so  alone,  that  he  needs  to 
feel  some  one  near  him.  He  cannot  teach  without  the  illusion 
that  some  one  understands  his  words,  receives  his  ideas,  trans¬ 
mits  them  to  others  far  away  before  his  death  and  after  his 
death.  This  wanderer  who  has  no  home  of  his  own  needs  a 
friendly  hearth.  To  this  uprooted  man  who  cannot  have  a 
family  of  his  own  flesh  and  blood,  the  children  of  his  spirit  are 
dear.  The  prophet  is  a  captain  whose  soldiers  spring  up  only 
after  his  blood  has  soaked  into  the  ground,  and  yet  he  longs  to 
feel  a  little  army  about  him  during  his  life-time.  Here  is  one 
of  the  most  tragic  elements  in  all  greatness:  disciples  are  re¬ 
pugnant  and  dangerous,  but  disciples,  even  false  ones,  cannot 
be  dispensed  with.  Prophets  suffer  if  they  do  not  find  them; 
they  suffer,  perhaps  more,  when  they  have  found  them. 

A  man’s  thought  is  bound  with  a  thousand  threads  to  his 
soul  even  more  closely  than  a  child  to  a  parent’s  heart.  It  is 
infinitely  precious,  delicate,  fragile,  and  the  newer  it  is,  the 
harder  it  is  for  other  men  to  understand.  It  is  a  tremendous 
responsibility,  a  continued  torture  and  suffering  to  confide  it 
to  another,  to  graft  it  on  another’s  thought,  to  give  it  into  the 
hands  of  the  man  incapable  of  respecting  it,  this  gift  so  rare, 
a  thought  new  in  human  life.  And  yet  every  great  man  longs 
to  share  with  all  men  what  he  has  received;  and  to  achieve  this 
sharing  with  humanity  is  more  than  he  can  do  single-handed. 
Then,  too,  vanity  insinuates  itself  even  in  noble  breasts:  and 
vanity  needs  caressing  words,  needs  praise,  even  offensive 
praise,  needs  assent,  even  verbal,  consecration  even  from  the 
mediocre,  victories  even  if  they  are  only  apparent. 

Christ  has  none  of  this  smallness  of  the  great,  and  yet  in  or¬ 
der  to  share  all  the  burdens  of  mankind,  He  accepted  with  the 
other  trials  of  earthly  life  the  burden  of  disciples.  Before  be¬ 
ing  tormented  by  His  enemies.  He  gave  himself  over  to  be  tor¬ 
mented  by  His  friends.  The  priests  killed  him,  once  and 
once  only;  the  disciples  made  Him  suffer  every  day  of  their 
life  with  Him.  The  anguish  of  His  passion  would  not  have 


178 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


been  completely  intolerable  if  it  had  not  included  the  deser¬ 
tion  of  the  Apostles  in  addition  to  the  Sadducees,  the  guards, 
the  Romans,  the  crowd. 

We  know  who  the  Apostles  were.  A  Galilean,  He  chose 
them  from  among  the  Galileans.  A  poor  man,  He  chose  them 
from  among  the  poor;  a  simple  man,  but  of  a  divine  sim¬ 
plicity  transcending  all  philosophies.  He  called  simple  men 
whose  simplicity  kept  them  like  clods.  He  did  not  wish  to 
choose  them  from  among  the  rich,  because  He  had  come  to 
combat  the  rich;  nor  among  the  scribes  and  doctors,  because 
He  had  come  to  overturn  their  law;  nor  among  the  philoso¬ 
phers,  because  there  were  no  philosophers  living  in  Palestine, 
and  had  there  been,  they  would  have  tried  to  extinguish  His 
supernatural  mysticism  under  the  dialectic  bushel. 

He  knew  that  these  souls  were  rough  but  had  integrity,  were 
ignorant  but  ardent,  and  that  He  could  in  the  end  mold 
them  according  to  His  desire,  bring  them  up  to  His  level,  fash¬ 
ion  them  like  clay  from  the  river,  which  is  only  mud,  and  yet 
when  modeled  and  baked  in  the  kiln,  becomes  eternal  beauty. 
But  flame  from  the  Holy  Ghost  was  needed  for  that  trans¬ 
formation;  until  the  day  of  the  Pentecost  their  imperfect  na¬ 
ture  had  too  often  the  upper  hand.  To  the  Twelve  much  should 
be  pardoned  because  almost  always  they  had  faith  in  Him; 
because  they  tried  to  love  Him  as  He  wished  to  be  loved;  and, 
above  all,  because  after  having  deserted  Him  in  the  Garden  of 
Gethsemane,  they  never  forgot  Him  and  left  to  all  eternity  the 
memory  of  Has  word  and  of  His  life. 

And  yet  our  hearts  ache  if  we  look  at  them  closely  in  the 
Gospels,  those  disciples  of  whom  we  have  some  knowledge. 
They  were  not  always  worthy  of  their  unique  and  supreme 
felicity,  those  men  who  were  so  inestimably  fortunate  as  to 
live  with  Christ,  to  walk,  to  eat  with  Him,  to  sleep  in  the  same 
room,  to  look  into  His  face,  to  touch  Plis  hand,  to  kiss  Him,  to 
hear  His  words  from  His  very  mouth;  those  twelve  fortunate 
men,  whom  throughout  the  centuries  millions  of  souls  have  se¬ 
cretly  envied. 

We  see  them,  hard  of  head  and  of  heart,  not  able  to  under¬ 
stand  the  clearest  parables  of  the  Master;  not  always  capable 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


179 


\ 


I 


ii 

I 

'ii 

I  - 
’  !l 

I 

i; 

e  i 

s': 

e  ^ 


0 

of 

;e'i 

r- 

Ic 


of  understanding,  even  after  His  death,  who  Jesus  had  been 
and  what  sort  of  a  new  Kingdom  was  proclaimed  by  Him; 
often  lacking  in  faith,  in  love,  in  brotherly  affection;  eager  for 
pay;  envying  each  other;  impatient  for  the  revenge  which 
would  repay  them  for  their  long  wait;  intolerant  of  those  who 
were  not  one  with  them;  vindictive  towards  those  who  would 
not  receive  them,  somnolent,  doubtful,  materialistic,  avaricious, 
cowardly. 

One  of  them  denies  Him  three  times;  one  of  them  delays 
giving  Him  due  reverence  until  He  is  in  the  sepulcher;  one 
does  not  believe  in  His  mission  because  He  comes  from  Naza¬ 
reth;  one  is  not  willing  to  admit  His  resurrection;  one  sells 
Him  to  His  enemies,  and  gives  Him  over  with  His  last  kiss  to 
those  who  come  to  arrest  Him.  Others,  when  Christ’s  teach¬ 
ings  were  on  a  too-lofty  level,  “went  back  and  walked  no  more 
with  Him.” 

Many  times  Jesus  was  forced  to  reprove  them  for  their  slow¬ 
ness  of  mind.  He  told  them  the  parable  of  the  sower,  and  they 
did  not  understand  its  meaning.  “Know  ye  not  this  parable, 
and  how  then  will  ye  know  all  parables?”  He  warns  them 
against  the  leaven  of  the  Pharisees  and  the  Sadducees,  and  they 
think  that  He  is  speaking  of  material  bread.  “Why  reason  ye 
because  ye  have  no  bread,  perceive  ye  not  yet,  neither  under¬ 
stand?  Have  ye  your  heart  yet  hardened?  Having  eyes  see 
ye  not,  and  having  ears  hear  ye  not?”  Like  the  common 
people  they  constantly  feel  that  Jesus  should  be  the  worldly 
Messiah,  political,  warlike,  come  to  restore  the  temporal  throne 
of  David.  Even  when  He  is  about  to  ascend  into  Heaven  they 
continue  to  ask  Him:  “Lord,  wilt  thou  at  this  time  restore 
again  the  Kingdom  to  Israel?”  And  after  the  resurrection, 
the  two  disciples  of  Emmaus  say:  “But  we  trusted  that  it  had 
been  he  which  should  have  redeemed  Israel.” 

They  disputed  among  themselves  to  know  who  should  have 
the  chief  place  in  the  new  Kingdom  and  Jesus  reproved  them: 
“What  was  it  that  ye  disputed  among  yourselves  by  the  way?” 
But  they  held  their  peace,  for  by  the  way  they  had  disputed 
among  themselves  who  should  be  the  greatest.  And  He  sat 
down  and  called  the  Twelve  and  saith  unto  them:  “If  any  man 


i8o 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


desires  to  be  firsts  the  same  shall  be  last  of  all  and  the  servant 
of  all.”  Jealous  of  their  privileges  they  denounced  to  Jesus 
one  who  was  casting  out  devils  in  His  name:  ‘Torbid  him 
not,”  answered  Jesus,  “for  there  is  no  man  which  shall  do  a 
miracle  in  my  name  that  can  lightly  speak  evil  of  me.  For 
he  that  is  not  against  us  is  on  our  part.”  After  a  talk  at  Caper¬ 
naum  many  murmured  at  his  words  and  said:  “This  is  an  hard 
saying;  who  can  hear  it?”  and  they  left  Him. 

And  yet  Jesus  spared  no  warnings  to  those  who  wished  to 
follow  Him.  A  Scribe  said  to  Him  that  he  would  follow  Him 
everywhere.  “And  Jesus  saith  unto  him:  The  foxes  have 
holes,  and  the  birds  of  the  air  have  nests;  but  the  Son  of  Man 
hath  not  where  to  lay  his  head.”  Another  who  was  a  disciple 
wished  first  to  bury  his  father,  “But  Jesus  said  unto  him.  Fol¬ 
low  me;  and  let  the  dead  bury  their  dead.”  And  still  an¬ 
other,  “Lord,  I  will  follow  thee;  but  let  me  first  go  bid  them 
farewell  which  are  at  home  at  my  house.  And  Jesus  said  unto 
him.  No  man,  having  put  his  hand  to  the  plough,  and  looking 
back,  is  fit  for  the  Kingdom  of  God.” 

A  rich  young  man  came  to  Him  who  observed  all  the  Com¬ 
mandments.  “Then  Jesus  beholding  him  loved  him,  and  said 
unto  him.  One  thing  thou  lackest:  go  thy  way,  sell  whatso¬ 
ever  thou  hast,  and  give  to  the  poor,  and  thou  shalt  have  treas¬ 
ure  in  heaven:  and  come  take  up  the  cross,  and  follow  me. 
And  he  was  sad  at  that  saying,  and  went  away  grieved:  for  he 
had  great  possessions.” 

To  be  with  Him,  a  man  must  needs  leave  his  home,  his  dead, 
his  family,  his  money, — all  the  ordinary  loves,  all  the  ordinary 
good  things  of  life.  What  is  given  in  exchange  is  so  great  that 
it  will  repay  every  renunciation.  But  few  are  capable  of  this 
renunciation,  and  some  after  they  have  believed,  falter. 

Renunciation  was  easier  for  the  Twelve,  almost  all  poor 
men,  yet  even  they  did  not  always  succeed  in  being  as  Jesus 
wished  them. 

“Simon,  Simon,”  He  said  one  day  to  Peter,  “behold,  Satan 
hath  desired  to  have  you,  that  he  may  sift  you  as  wheat.”  In 
spite  of  the  winnowing  of  Christ,  some  evil  seeds  remained 
among  his  grain. 


T 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


SIMON,  CALLED  THE  ROCK 


l8l 


! 


Peter  before  the  Resurrection  is  like  a  body  beside  a  spirit, 
like  a  material  voice  which  accompanies  the  sublimation  of  the 
soul.  He  is  the  earth  which  believes  in  Heaven  but  remains 
earthy.  In  his  rough  man’s  imagination  the  Kingdom  of 
Heaven  still  resembles  rather  too  closely  the  Kingdom  of  the 
Prophets’  Messiah. 

When  Jesus  pronounced  the  famous  words:  “It  is  easier  for 
a  camel  to  go  through  the  eye  of  a  needle  than  for  a  rich  man 
to  enter  into  the  kingdom  of  God,”  Peter  thought  this  sweeping 
condemnation  of  wealth  very  harsh.  “Then  answered  Peter 
and  said  unto  him.  Behold,  we  have  forsaken  all,  and  fol¬ 
lowed  thee;  what  shall  we  have  therefore?”  He  acts  like  a 
money  lender  inquiring  what  interest  he  can  expect.  And 
Jesus,  to  console  him,  promises  him  that  he  will  sit  upon  a 
throne  to  judge  one  of  the  tribes  of  Israel,  that  the  other  eleven 
will  judge  the  other  eleven  tribes,  and  adds  that  every  one 
shall  have  a  hundred  times  v/hat  he  has  given  up. 

Again  Peter  does  not  understand  what  Christ  means  when 
He  asserts  that  only  what  comes  from  man  himself  can  defile 
men.  “Peter  then  answered  and  said  unto  him:  Declare  unto 
us  this  parable,  and  Jesus  said:  Are  ye  also  without  under¬ 
standing?  Do  ye  not  yet  understand?”  Among  the  disciples 
so  slow  to  understand,  Peter  is  one  of  the  slowest.  His  sur¬ 
name  “Cefa,”  stone,  piece  of  rock,  was  not  given  him  only  for 
the  firmness  of  his  faith,  but  for  the  hardness  of  his  head. 

He  was  not  an  alert  spirit  in  either  the  literal  or  the  figura¬ 
tive  meaning  of  the  word.  He  easily  fell  asleep  even  at  su¬ 
preme  moments.  He  fell  asleep  on  the  Mount  of  the  Trans¬ 
figuration.  He  fell  asleep  on  the  night  at  Gethsemane,  after 
the  last  supper,  where  Jesus  had  uttered  the  saying  which 
would  have  kept  even  a  Scribe  everlastingly  from  sleep.  And 
yet  his  boldness  was  great.  When  Jesus  that  last  evening  an¬ 
nounced  that  He  was  to  suffer  and  die,  Peter  burst  out:  “Lord, 
I  am  ready  to  go  with  thee  both,  into  prison,  and  to  death.  Al¬ 
though  all  shall  be  offended,  yet  will  not  I.  If  I  should  die  with 
thee,  I  will  not  deny  Thee  in  any  wise.”  Jesus  answered  him: 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


182 

‘^Verily  I  say  unto  thee  that  this  night  before  the  cock  crow, 
thou  shalt  deny  me  thrice.’’ 

Jesus  knew  him  better  than  Peter  knew  himself.  When  he 
stood  in  the  courtyard  of  Caiaphas,  warming  himself  at  the 
brazier  while  the  priests  were  questioning  and  insulting  his 
God,  he  denied  three  times  that  he  was  one  of  His  fol¬ 
lowers. 

At  the  moment  of  the  arrest  he  had  made,  against  the  teach¬ 
ing  of  Jesus,  an  appearance  of  resistance:  he  had  cut  off  the  ear 
of  Malchus.  He  had  not  yet  understood  after  years  of  daily 
comradeship  with  Christ  that  any  form  of  material  violence 
was  repellent  to  Jesus.  He  had  not  understood  that  if  Jesus 
had  wished  to  save  Himself,  He  could  have  hidden  in  the 
wilderness  unknown  to  all,  or  escaped  out  of  the  hands  of  the 
soldiers  as  He  had  done  that  first  time  at  Nazareth.  So  little 
did  Jesus  value  this  act,  contrary  to  His  teaching,  that  he 
healed  the  wound  at  once  and  reproved  His  untimely  avenger. 

That  was  not  the  first  time  that  Peter  showed  himself  un¬ 
equal  to  great  events.  He  had  like  all  crude  personalities  a 
tendency  to  see  the  material  dross  in  spiritual  manifestations, 
the  low  in  the  lofty,  the  commonplace  in  the  tragic.  On  the 
mountain  of  the  transfiguration,  when  he  was  awakened  and 
saw  Jesus  refulgent  with  white  light,  speaking  with  two  others, 
with  two  spirits,  with  two  prophets,  the  first  thought  which 
came  to  him,  instead  of  worshiping  and  keeping  silence,  was 
to  build  a  tabernacle  for  these  great  personages.  ^Tord,  it  is 
good  for  us  to  be  here:  if  thou  wilt,  let  us  make  here  three 
tabernacles;  one  for  thee,  and  one  for  Moses,  and  one  for 
Elias.”  Luke,  the  wise  man,  adds  to  excuse  him,  “not  knowing 
what  he  said.” 

When  he  saw  Jesus  walking  in  all  security  on  the  lake,  the 
idea  came  to  him  to  do  the  same  thing.  “And  when  Peter  v/as 
come  down  out  of  the  ship,  he  walked  on  the  water,  to  go  to 
Jesus.  But  when  he  saw  the  wind  boisterous,  he  was  afraid; 
and  beginning  to  sink,  he  cried,  saying.  Lord,  save  me  ”  And 
immediately  Jesus  stretched  forth  His  hand,  and  caught  him, 
and  said  unto  him,  “O  thou  of  little  faith,  wherefore  didst  thou 
doubt?”  Because  he  was  familiar  with  the  lake  and  with 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


183 


Jesus,  the  good  fisherman  thought  he  could  do  as  his  master 
did,  and  did  not  know  that  the  storm  could  be  mastered  only 
by  a  soul  infinitely  greater,  a  faith  infinitely  more  potent 
than  his. 

His  great  love  for  Christ,  which  makes  up  for  all  his  weak¬ 
ness,  led  him  one  day  almost  to  rebuke  Him.  Jesus  had  told 
His  disciples  how  He  must  suffer  and  be  killed.  ‘Then  Peter 
took  him  and  began  to  rebuke  him,  saying.  Be  it  far  from 
thee.  Lord:  this  shall  not  be  unto  thee.  But  he  turned  and 
said  unto  Peter,  Get  thee  behind  me,  Satan:  thou  art  an 
offence  unto  me:  for  thou  savourest  not  the  things  that  be  of 
God,  but  those  that  be  of  men.”  No  one  ever  pronounced 
such  a  terrible  judgment  on  Simon,  called  Peter.  He  was 
called  to  work  for  the  Kingdom  of  God,  and  he  thought  as  men 
do.  His  mind,  still  occupied  with  the  vulgar  idea  of  the  tri¬ 
umphant  Messiah,  refused  to  conceive  of  a  persecuted  Messiah 
condemned  and  executed.  His  soul  had  not  yet  kindled  to  the 
idea  of  divine  expiation,  the  idea  that  salvation  cannot  be  se¬ 
cured  without  an  offering  of  suffering  and  blood,  and  that  the 
great  should  sacrifice  His  body  to  the  ferocity  of  mean  men  in 
order  that  the  mean,  after  being  enlightened  by  that  life,  may 
‘be  saved  from  that  death.  He  loved  Jesus,  but  although  his 
love  was  warm  and  potent,  it  still  had  something  earthy  in  it, 
and  he  grew  angry  at  the  thought  that  his  king  should  be  re¬ 
viled,  that  his  God  should  die.  And  yet  he  was  the  first  to  rec¬ 
ognize  Jesus  as  the  Christ;  and  this  primacy  is  so  great  that 
nothing  has  been  able  to  cancel  it. 

SONS  OF  THUNDER 

The  two  fishermen,  the  brothers  James  and  John,  who  had 
left  their  boat  and  their  nets  on  the  shore  at  Capernaum  in  or¬ 
der  to  go  with  Jesus,  form  together  with  Peter  a  sort  of  favorite 
triumvirate.  They  are  the  only  ones  who  accompany  Jesus 
into  the  house  of  Jairus,  and  on  the  Mount  of  Transfiguration, 
and  they  are  the  ones  whom  He  takes  with  Him  on  the  night 
of  Gethsemane.  But  in  spite  of  their  long  intimacy  with  the 
Master,  they  never  acquired  sufficient  humility.  Jesus  gave 


184 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


them  the  surname  of  ^^Boanerges — Sons  of  Thunder/’  an  ironic 
surname,  alluding  perhaps  to  their  fiery,  irascible  character. 

When  they  all  started  together  towards  Jerusalem,  Jesus  sent 
some  of  them  ahead  to  make  ready  for  Him.  They  were  cross¬ 
ing  Samaria  and  were  badly  received  in  a  village.  ^^And  they 
did  not  receive  him,  because  his  face  was  as  though  he  would 
go  to  Jerusalem.  And  when  his  disciples,  James  and  John,  saw 
this,  they  said:  Lord,  wilt  thou  that  we  command  fire  to 
come  down  from  heaven  and  consume  them?  But  he  turned, 
and  rebuked  them.”  For  them,  Galileans,  faithful  to  Jerusa¬ 
lem,  the  Samaritans  were  always  enemies.  In  vain  had  they 
heard  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount:  “Do  good  to  them  that  hate 
you,  and  pray  for  them  which  despitefully  use  you,  and  perse¬ 
cute  you.”  In  vain  had  they  received  instructions  for  their 
mission  among  the  peoples:  “And  whosoever  shall  not  receive 
you,  nor  hear  your  words,  when  ye  depart  out  of  that  house  or 
city,  shake  off  the  dust  from  your  feet.”  Angry  at  an  affront 
to  Jesus  they  presumed  to  be  able  to  command  fire  from 
Heaven.  It  seemed  to  them  a  work  of  righteous  justice  to  re¬ 
duce  to  ashes  the  village  guilty  of  inhospitality.  And  yet 
far  as  they  were  from  that  loving  rebirth  of  the  soul  which 
alone  constitutes  the  reality  of  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven,  these 
men  had  the  pretension  to  claim  the  first  places  on  the  day  of 
triumph. 

“And  James  and  John,  the  sons  of  Zebedee,  came  unto  him, 
saying:  Master,  we  would  that  thou  shouldest  do  for  us  what¬ 
soever  we  should  desire.  And  he  said  unto  them:  What 
would  ye  that  I  should  do  for  you?  They  said  unto  him: 
Grant  unto  us  that  we  may  sit  one  on  thy  right  hand  and  one 
on  thy  left  hand  in  thy  glory.  But  Jesus  said  unto  them: 
Ye  know  not  what  ye  ask.  And  when  the  ten  heard  it  they 
began  to  be  much  displeased  with  James  and  John.  But  Jesus 
called  them  to  Him  and  saith  unto  them:  Whosoever  will  be 
great  among  you  let  him  be  your  minister;  and  whosoever  will 
be  the  chief  among  you,  let  him  be  your  servant,  for  even  the 
Son  of  Man  came  not  to  be  ministered  unto  but  to  minister.” 

Christ,  the  overturner  of  the  old  order,  took  this  occasion  to 
repeat  the  master  word  to  which  all  magnanimous  souls  re- 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


185 

3pond.  Only  the  useless,  the  petty,  the  parasites,  wish  to  be 
served,  even  by  their  inferiors  (if  any  one  in  the  absolute  mean- 
ng  of  the  word  can  be  inferior  to  them),  but  any  superior  be- 
ng  is  always  at  the  service  of  lesser  souls  precisely  because  he 
s  superior. 

This  miraculous  paradox  is  the  proof  of  the  fire  of  genius. 
'!t  is  repugnant  to  the  egotism  of  the  self-centered,  to  the  pre- 
’.ensions  of  would-be  supermen,  and  to  the  poverty  of  the  avari¬ 
cious  because  the  little  that  they  have  is  not  even  enough  for 
diemselves.  He  who  cannot  or  will  not  serve  shows  that  he  has 
lothing  to  give,  is  a  weakling^  impotent,  imperfect,  empty. 
But  the  genius  is  no  true  genius  if  he  does  not  exuberantly 
)enefit  his  inferiors.  To  serve  is  not  always  the  same  as  to 
i)bey.  A  people  can  be  served  better  sometimes  by  a  man  who 
)uts  himself  at  their  head  to  force  them  to  be  saved  even  if 
[hey  do  not  wish  it.  There  is  nothing  servile  in  serving. 

James  and  John  understood  this  stimulating  saying  of  Jesus, 
find  one  of  them,  John,  among  the  nearest  and  most  lov¬ 
ing  of  the  disciples.  At  the  Last  Supper  he  leans  his  head  on 
\  j’esus’  breast;  and  from  the  height  of  the  cross  Jesus,  crucified, 
pnfides  the  Virgin  to  him,  that  he  should  be  a  son  to  her. 


THE  OTHERS 


Thomas  owes  his  popularity  to  the  quality  which  should  be 
jfiis  shame.  Thomas,  the  twin,  is  the  guardian  of  modernity, 
s  Thomas  Aquinas  is  the  oracle  of  medieval  life.  He  is  the 
jrue  patron  saint  of  Spinoza  and  of  all  the  other  deniers  of  the 
esurrection,  the  man  who  is  not  satisfied  even  with  the  testi- 
Inony  of  his  eyes,  but  wishes  that  of  his  hands  as  well.  And 
^et  his  love  for  Jesus  makes  him  pardonable.  When  they  came 
0  the  Master  to  say  that  Lazarus  was  dead,  and  the  disciples 
lesitated  before  going  into  Judea  among  their  enemies,  it  was 
I  ihomas  alone  who  said:  ^Tet  us  also  go,  that  we  may  die  with 
lim.”  The  martyrdom  which  he  did  not  find  then  came  to  him 
«  ti  India,  after  Christ’s  death. 

Matthew  is  the  dearest  of  all  the  Twelve.  He  was  a  tax- 
:atherer,  a  sort  of  under-publican,  and  probably  had  more 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


1 86 

education  than  his  companions.  He  followed  Jesus  as  readily 
as  the  fishermen.  ^^And  after  these  things  he  went  forth,  and 
saw  a  publican  named  Levi,  sitting  at  the  receipt  of  custom: 
and  he  said  unto  him,  follow  me.  And  he  left  all,  rose  up, 
and  followed  him.  And  Levi  made  him  a  great  feast  in  his 
own  house.”  It  was  not  a  heap  of  torn  nets  which  Matthew 
left,  but  a  position,  a  stipend,  secure  and  increasing  earnings. 
Giving  up  riches  is  easy  for  a  man  who  has  almost  nothing.' 
Among  the  Twelve  Matthew  was  certainly  the  richest  before 
his  conversion.  Of  no  other  is  it  told  that  he  could  offer  a 
great  feast,  and  this  means  that  he  made  a  greater  and  more 
meritorious  sacrifice  by  his  rising  at  the  first  call  from  the  seat 
where  he  was  accumulating  money. 

Matthew  and  Judas  were  perhaps  the  only  ones  of  the 
Disciples  who  knew  how  to  write,  and  to  Matthew  we  owe  the 
first  collection  of  Logia  or  memorable  sayings  of  Jesus,  if  the 
testimony  of  Papia  is  true.  In  the  Gospel  which  is  called  by 
his  name,  we  find  the  most  complete  text  of  the  Sermon  on  the  i 
Mount.  Our  debt  to  the  poor  excise-man  is  heavy:  without 
him  many  words  of  Jesus,  and  the  most  beautiful,  might  have 
been  lost.  This  handler  of  drachma,  shekels  and  talents, 
whom  his  despised  trade  must  have  predisposed  to  avarice,  haS:i 
laid  up  for  us  a  treasure  worth  more  than  all  the  money  coined 
on  the  earth  before  and  after  his  time. 

Philip  of  Bethsaida  also  knew  how  to  reckon.  When  the 
famished  multitude  pressed  about  Him,  Jesus  turned  to  him 
to  ask  what  it  would  cost  to  buy  bread  for  all  those  people. 
Philip  answered  Him:  “Two  hundred  pennyworth  of  bread 
is  not  sufficient  for  them.”  He  was  later  to  become  a  pro- 
claimer  of  his  Master^s  fame.  He  it  was  who  announced  to 
Nathaniel  the  coming  of  Jesus,  and  it  was  to  him  that  the  | 
Greeks  of  Jerusalem  turned  when  they  wished  to  speak  to  the  j 
new  Prophet. 

Nathaniel  answered  Philip’s  announcement  with  sarcasm: 
“Can  there  any  good  thing  come  out  of  Nazareth?”  But 
Philip  succeeded  in  bringing  him  to  Jesus,  who  as  soon  as  He! 
saw  him,  exclaimed,  “Behold  an  Israelite  indeed,  in  whom  is  | 
no  guile  I  Nathaniel  saith  unto  him.  Whence  knowest  thou  me? 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


187 


Jesus  answered  and  said  unto  him,  Before  that  Philip  called 
thee,  when  thou  wast  under  the  fig  tree,  I  saw  thee.  Nathaniel 
answered  and  saith  unto  him.  Rabbi,  thou  art  the  Son  of  God; 
thou  art  the  King  of  Israel.  Jesus  answered  and  said  unto 
him.  Because  I  said  unto  thee,  I  saw  thee  under  the  fig  tree, 
believest  thou?  thou  shalt  see  greater  things  than  these.’’ 

Less  enthusiastic  and  inflammable  was  Nicodemus,  who,  as  a 
matter  of  fact,  never  wished  to  be  known  as  a  disciple  of  Jesus. 
Nicodemus  was  old,  had  been  to  school  to  the  Rabbis,  was  a 
friend  of  the  Jerusalem  Sanhedrin,  but  the  stories  of  the  mira¬ 
cles  had  shaken  him,  and  he  went  by  night  to  Jesus  to  tell  Him 
'that  he  believed  that  He  was  sent  by  God.  Jesus  answered 
him,  ^‘Verily,  verily,  I  say  unto  thee,  except  a  man  be  born 
again,  he  cannot  see  the  kingdom  of  God.”  Nicodemus  did 
'not  understand  these  words,  or  perhaps  they  startled  him.  He 
had  come  to  see  a  miracle  worker  and  had  found  a  Sybil,  and 
Iwith  the  homely  good  sense  of  the  man  who  wishes  to  avoid 
[being  taken  in  by  a  fraud  he  said,  ^‘How  can  a  man  be  born 
I  when  he  is  old?  can  he  enter  the  second  time  into  his  moth¬ 
er’s  womb  and  be  born?”  Jesus  answers  with  words  of  pro¬ 
found  meaning,  ^‘Except  a  man  be  born  of  water  and  of  the 
spirit,  he  cannot  enter  into  the  kingdom  of  God.” 

'  But  Nicodemus  still  did  not  understand.  “How  can  these 
things  be?”  Jesus  answered,  “Art  thou  a  master  of  Israel  and 
[knowest  not  these  things?” 

Nicodemus  always  respected  the  young  Galilean,  but  his 
sympathy  was  as  circumspect  as  his  visit.  Once  when  the 
leaders  of  the  priests  and  the  Pharisees  were  meditating  how  to 
capture  Jesus,  Nicodemus  ventured  a  defense:  “Doth  our  law 
j judge  any  man,  before  it  hear  him,  and  know  what  he  doeth?” 
He  took  his  stand  on  a  point  of  law.  He  spoke  in  the  name  of 
“our”  law,  not  at  all  in  the  name  of  the  new  man.  Nicodemus 
is  always  the  old  man,  law-respecting,  the  prudent  friend  of  the 
letter  of  the  law.  A  few  words  of  reproof  were  enough  to 
silence  him.  “They  answered  and  said  unto  him.  Art  thou 
also  of  Galilee?  Search  and  look:  for  out  of  Galilee  ariseth 
no  prophet!”  He  belonged  by  right  to  the  Sanhedrin,  but 
there  is  no  record  that  he  raised  his  voice  in  favor  of  the  ac- 


i88 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


cused  when  He  was  conducted  to  Caiaphas.  The  trial  was  at 
night  and  probably  to  avoid  the  contempt  of  his  colleagues  and 
his  own  remorse  for  the  legal  assassination,  Nicodemus  re¬ 
mained  in  his  bed.  When  he  awoke  Jesus  was  dead,  and  then, 
forgetting  his  avarice,  he  bought  a  hundred  pounds  of  myrrh 
and  aloes  to  embalm  the  body.  He  who  brought  others  to  life 
was  dead,  but  Nicodemus,  although  not  literally  dead,  would 
never  know  that  second  birth  in  which  he  could  not  believe. 

Nicodemus  is  the  eternal  type  of  the  luke-warm  who  will  be 
spewed  out  of  the  mouth  of  God  on  the  day  of  wrath.  He  is 
the  half-way  soul  who  would  like  to  say  ‘Wes’’  with  his  spirit, 
but  his  flesh  suggests  to  him  the  “No”  of  cowardice.  He  is  the 
man  of  books,  the  nocturnal  disciple  who  would  like  to  be  a 
follower  of  the  Master,  but  not  to  appear  as  one;  who  would  , 
not  mind  being  born  again,  but  who  does  not  know  how  to 
break  the  withered  bark  of  his  ageing  trunk;  the  man  of  in¬ 
hibitions  and  precautions.  When  the  man  of  his  admiration 
was  martyred  and  killed  and  His  enemies  were  satisfied,  and 
there  was  no  more  danger  of  being  compromised,  then  he 
comes  with  balsams  to  pour  into  those  wounds  which  were  in¬ 
flicted  partly  by  his  cowardice. 

But  the  church  to  reward  his  posthumous  piety  has  chosen 
him  to  become  one  of  her  saints.  And  there  is  an  old  tradition 
that  he  was  baptized  by  Peter  and  put  to  death  for  having  be-  : 
lieved,  too  late,  in  Him  whom  he  did  not  save  from  death. 

LAMBS,  SERPENTS,  AND  DOVES 

Those  whom  Jesus  sent  out  to  the  conquest  of  souls  were 
rustic  countrymen,  but  they  could  be  mild  as  sheep,  wary  as 
serpents,  simple  as  doves—sheep  without  cowardice,  serpents 
without  poison,  doves  without  lustfulness.  ; 

To  be  stripped  of  everything  was  the  first  duty  of  such  sol¬ 
diers.  Seeking  the  poor,  they  should  be  poorer  than  the  poor. 
And  yet  not  beggars,  for  the  laborer  is  worthy  of  his  hire;  the 
bread  of  life  which  they  were  to  distribute  to  those  hungering 
for  justice  deserved  wheat  bread  in  return.  The  laborers 
should  set  out  on  their  wonderful  work  destitute  of  possessions, 


i  LIFE  OF  CHRIST  189 

[taking  nothing  for  their  journey  save  a  staff  only,  no  scrip,  no 
[bread,  no  money  in  their  purse.  They  should  be  shod  with 
1  sandals,  clad  in  a  single  garment.  The  metals  are  a  burden 
[which  weighs  down  the  soul.  The  sheen  of  gold  makes  men 
forget  the  sun’s  splendor;  the  sheen  of  silver  makes  them  for- 
iget  the  splendor  of  the  stars;  the  sheen  of  copper  makes  them 
forget  the  splendor  of  fire.  He  who  deals  with  metals  weds 
[himself  to  the  earth  and  is  bound  fast  to  the  earth.  He  does 
not  know  Heaven,  and  Heaven  does  not  recognize  him. 

It  is  not  enough  to  preach  love  of  poverty  to  the  poor,  or  to 
(talk  to  them  about  the  sumptuous  beauty  of  poverty.  The  poor 
I  do  not  believe  the  words  of  the  rich  until  the  rich  willingly  be¬ 
come  poor.  The  Disciples  destined  to  preach  the  beauty  of 
[poverty  to  both  poor  and  rich  were  to  set  an  example  of  happy 
poverty  to  every  man  in  every  house  on  every  day.  They  were 
’to  carry  nothing  with  them  except  the  clothes  on  their  backs 
and  the  sandals  on  their  feet.  They  were  to  accept  nothing; 
only  the  small  piece  of  daily  bread  which  they  would  find  on 
|the  tables  of  their  hosts.  The  wandering  priests  of  the  goddess 
Siria  and  of  other  Oriental  divinities  carried  with  them,  along 
with  the  sacred  images,  the  wallet  for  offerings,  the  bag  for 
alms,  because  common  people  do  not  value  things  which  cost 
them  nothing.  The  apostles  of  Jesus,  on  the  contrary,  were  to 
refuse  any  gift  or  payment,  ‘Treely  ye  have  received,  freely 
give.”  And  as  one  of  the  disguises  of  wealth  is  merchandise, 
the  messengers  of  the  Kingdom  were  to  renounce  even  a  change 
of  garments,  sandals  and  staff;  were  to  dispense  with  every¬ 
thing  except  the  barest  essentials. 

They  were  to  enter  into  the  houses,  open  to  all  in  a  country 
where  the  locks  and  bolts  of  fear  were  not  yet  known,  and 
which  preserved  some  remembrance  of  nomad  hospitality — 
they  were  to  speak  to  the  men  and  the  women  who  lived  there, 
Their  duty  was  to  announce  that  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven  was 
at  hand,  to  explain  in  what  way  the  kingdom  of  earth  could  be- 
icome  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven,  and  to  explain  the  one  condi- 
I'l  tion  for  this  happy  fulfilling  of  all  the  prophecies, — repentance, 
[conversion,  transformation  of  the  soul.  As  a  proof  that  they 
were  sent  by  One  who  had  the  authority  to  demand  this  change. 


I  . 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


190 

they  had  power  to  heal  the  sick,  to  drive  away  with  their  words 
unclean  spirits, — that  is,  the  demons,  and  the  vices  which 
make  men  like  demons. 

They  commanded  men  to  renew  their  souls  and  at  once  with 
all  the  power  which  had  been  given  them  they  aided  them  to 
commence  this  renovation.  They  did  not  leave  them  alone 
with  this  command,  so  difficult  to  execute.  After  the  prophetic 
word,  ‘The  Kingdom  is  at  hand,”  they  began  their  labors;  they 
worked  to  restore,  to  cleanse,  to  make  over  these  souls  which 
had  been  abandoned  by  their  rightful  shepherds.  They  ex¬ 
plained  v/hat  it  was  necessary  to  do  to  be  worthy  of  the  new 
Heaven  on  earth  and  they  lent  a  hand  at  once  to  the  work.  In 
short,  to  complete  the  paradox  they  assassinated  and  brought 
to  life.  They  killed  the  old  Adam  in  every  convert,  but  their 
words  were  the  baptism  of  the  second  birth.  Pilgrims  without 
purses  or  bundles,  they  carried  with  them  truth  and  life, — 
peace. 

“And  when  ye  come  into  an  house  salute  it,”  and  this  was 
the  salutation,  “Peace  be  with  you.”  Those  who  received  them 
gained  peace,  those  who  rejected  them  continued  their  bitter 
warfare.  Coming  away  from  the  house  or  from  the  city  which 
had  not  received  them,  they  were  to  shake  the  dust  from  their 
feet,  not  because  the  dust  of  the  houses  and  of  the  cities  of 
those  who  were  not  willing  to  hear  them  was  contaminated,  but 
because  shaking  it  from  their  feet  is  a  symbolic  answer  to  their 
deafness  and  niggardliness  of  soul.  You  have  refused  all,  and 
we  will  not  accept  anything  from  you,  not  even  the  dust  which 
clings  to  our  sandals.  Because  you,  made  of  dust  and  fated  to 
return  to  dust  as  you  are,  will  not  give  a  moment  of  your  time, 
nor  a  piece  of  your  bread,  we  leave  behind  us  the  dust  of  your 
streets,  down  to  the  least  grain. 


SPEAK  YE  IN  LIGHT 


j 


In  their  faithfulness  to  the  sublime  paradox  of  Him  who  i 
sends  them,  the  apostles  bring  peace  and  at  the  same  time  war!  \ 


All  men  are  not  capable  of  conversion.  In  the  same  family,  in| 
the  same  house,  there  are  some  who  will  believe  and  others  ; 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


191 

iwho  will  not.  And  there  will  spring  up  between  them  division 
and  warfare,  the  hard  price  with  which  absolute  and  stable 
peace  can  be  secured.  If  all  men  should  listen  at  the  same  mo¬ 
ment  to  the  voice,  if  all  could  be  transformed  on  the  same  day, 
the  Kingdom  of  Heaven  would  be  founded  in  a  twinkling  of  an 
eye,  with  no  bloody  preface  of  battles. 

Furthermore  those  who  do  not  wish  to  change  themselves, 
because  they  do  not  understand  the  news,  or  believe  themselves 
already  perfect,  will  attack  the  converters  and  accuse  them  be¬ 
fore  tribunals.  Representatives  of  wealth  and  of  the  old  law 
will  be  cruel  to  the  poor  who  are  teaching  the  new  law  to  the 
poor.  The  rich  are  not  willing  to  concede  that  their  wealth  is 
r dangerous  poverty;  the  scribes  are  not  willing  to  admit  that 
.their  learning  is  only  deadly  ignorance.  .  .  .  ‘They  will  scourge 
I  you  in  their  synagogues.  .  .  .  But  when  they  deliver  you  up, 
take  no  thought  of  how  or  what  ye  shall  speak.”  Jesus  is  sure 
that  the  poor  fishermen,  though  they  have  never  studied  in  the 
schools  of  eloquence,  will  find  for  themselves  great  words  in 
^  their  hour  of  accusation.  One  thought,  when  it  is  a  great 
;j thought  and  profoundly  fixed  in  the  heart,  engenders  of  itself 
,iall  the  derivato ry  and  accessory  thoughts,  and  with  them  per- 
;  feet  form  in  which  to  express  them.  The  arid-hearted  man 
who  has  nothing  in  himself,  who  has  faith  in  nothing,  who 
I  i  does  not  feel,  burn,  and  suffer,  though  he  may  have  studied 
I  long  with  the  sophists  of  Athens  and  the  rhetoricians  of  Rome, 
i  is  incapable  of  improvising  one  of  those  powerful  and  illumi- 
tjuating  answers  which  trouble  the  conscience  of  the  hardest 
I  j*udges. 

They  are  to  speak  therefore  without  fear  and  without  hiding 
;  anything  of  what  has  been  taught  them.  “What  I  tell  you  in 
I  :  darkness  that  seek  ye  in  light,  and  what  ye  hear  in  the  ear, 
preach  ye  upon  the  housetops.”  With  these  words  Jesus  does 
not  ask  his  Disciples  to  be  more  daring  than  he  has  been.  He 
has  spoken  in  the  darkness,  that  is  obscurity;  He  has  spoken 
to  them,  to  His  first  faithful  followers,  but  what  He  has  said 
to  them  along  deserted  roads  and  in  solitary  rooms  they  are  to 
repeat  as  He  Himself  has  given  them  the  example,  on  open 
j  squares  of  cities  before  crowds  of  people.  He  has  whispered 


the  truth  into  their  ears,  because  the  truth  at  first  might  alarm 
those  not  prepared  for  it,  and  because  there  were  so  few  of  the 
Disciples  that  there  was  no  need  to  cry  aloud.  But  this  truth 
must  be  cried  out  now  from  the  heights,  in  order  that  all  may  j 
hear  it,  in  order  that  there  may  be  no  one  to  say  on  that  Day  | 
that  he  has  not  heard  it.  j 

Men  can  kill  the  body  of  the  man  who  spreads  the  truth 
abroad,  but  they  cannot  kill  his  soul;  from  the  death  of  a  i 
single  body  thousands  of  new  souls  will  be  born  into  life.  But 
not  even  your  body  will  die,  because  there  is  One  who  protects  j 
it.  “Are  not  two  sparrows  sold  for  a  farthing?  and  one  of  ! 
them  shall  not  fall  on  the  ground  without  your  Father.  But  j 
the  very  hairs  of  your  head  are  all  numbered.  Fear  ye  not  I 
therefore,  ye  are  of  more  value  than  many  sparrows.”  The 
birds  of  the  air  who  do  not  sow,  do  not  die  of  hunger;  you  who  | 
do  not  carry  even  a  staff  shall  not  die  at  the  hands  of  your 
enemies. 

They  have  with  them  a  secret  so  precious  that  the  flesh 
which  contains  it  will  not  be  allowed  to  perish.  Jesus  is  al¬ 
ways  with  them,  even  though  from  afar.  What  is  done  to  « 
them  is  done  to  Him.  A  mystic  identity  is  created  for  all  | 
eternity  between  Him  who  sends  them  out  and  those  disciples  | 
who  are  sent.  “And  whosoever  shall  give  to  drink  unto  one  j 
of  these  little  ones,  a  cup  of  cold  water  only  in  the  name  of  a 
disciple,  verily  I  say  unto  you  he  shall  in  no  wise  lose  his 
reward.” 

Jesus  is  the  fountain  of  living  water  destined  to  quench  the 
thirst  of  all  the  weary,  and  yet  He  will  take  account  also  of 
the  cup  of  water  which  shall  have  quenched  the  thirst  of  the 
least  among  His  friends.  Those  who  carry  with  them  the  water 
of  truth,  which  purifies  and  saves,  may  need  some  day  a  cup 
of  the  stagnant  water  buried  at  the  bottom  of  village  wells. 
Any  person  who  will  give  them  a  little  of  this  ordinary,  ma¬ 
terial  water  will  have  in  exchange  a  well-spring  which  intoxi¬ 
cates  the  soul  more  than  the  strongest  wine. 

The  apostles  who  go  about  with  one  garment,  with  a  single 
pair  of  sandals,  without  belts  or  wallets,  poor  as  poverty,  bare 
as  truth,  simple  as  joy,  are,  in  spite  of  their  apparent  poverty, 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


193 


diverse  forms  of  a  king  who  has  come  to  found  a  kingdom 
greater  and  happier  than  all  kingdoms,  to  bring  to  poor  people 
wealth  which  is  worth  more  than  all  measurable  riches,  to 
offer  to  the  unhappy  a  joy  more  profound  than  any  fleshly 
pleasures.  It  suits  this  new  King,  as  it  did  the  kings  of  the 
Orient,  to  show  Himself  under  many  forms,  to  appear  to  men 
in  diverse  garments.  But  the  disguises  which  He  prefers  even 
to-day  are  these  three:  Poet,  Poor  Man,  and  Apostle. 

MAMMON 

Jesus  is  the  poor  man,  infinitely  and  rigorously  poor.  Poor 
with  an  absolute  poverty!  The  prince  of  poverty!  The  Lord 
of  perfect  destitution  !  The  poor  man  who  lives  with  the  poor, 

'  who  has  come  for  the  poor,  who  speaks  to  the  poor,  who  gives 
to  the  poor,  who  works  for  the  poor!  Poor  among  the  poor, 
destitute  among  the  destitute,  beggar  among  the  beggars!  The 
I  poor  man  of  a  great  and  eternal  poverty!  The  happy  and 
rich  poor  man,  who  accepts  poverty,  who  desires  poverty,  who 
f  weds  himself  to  poverty,  who  chants  of  poverty!  The  beggar 
:  who  gives  alms!  The  naked  man  who  covers  the  naked!  The 
:  hungry  man  who  feeds  others,  the  miraculous  and  supernat- 
;  ural,  who  changes  the  men  owning  false  riches  into  poor  men, 
;  and  poor  men  into  those  with  real  wealth. 

There  are  poor  men  who  are  poor  because  they  were  never 
capable  of  acquiring  wealth.  There  are  other  poor  men  who  are 
poor  because  they  give  away  every  evening  what  they  earned 
ithat  day;  and  the  more  they  give  the  more  they  have.  Their 
wealth,  the  wealth  of  this  second  class  of  poor  men,  grows 
'  greater  in  proportion  as  it  is  given  away.  It  is  a  pile  which  be- 
!  comes  greater  as  more  is  taken  away  from  it. 

I  Jesus  was  one  of  these  poor  men.  Compared  to  one  of  them, 
jmen  materially  rich,  rich  as  the  world  esteems  wealth,  rich 
with  their  chests  of  talents,  mina,  rupees,  florins,  shekels, 
crowns,  francs,  marks,  and  dollars,  are  only  lamentable  beg¬ 
gars.  The  money-changers  of  the  forum,  the  great  feasters  of 
Jerusalem,  the  bankers  of  Florence  and  Frankfort,  the  lords 
of  London,  the  multi-millionaires  of  New  York,  compared  to 


194 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


these  poor  men  are  only  unfortunate  beggars,  despoiled  and| 
needy;  unpaid  servants  of  a  fierce  master;  condemned  every® 
day  to  assassinate  their  own  souls.  The  wretchedness  of  such 
indigence  is  so  terrible  that  they  are  reduced  to  pick  up  the 
stones  that  are  found  in  the  mud  of  the  earth,  and  grope  about 
in  filth.  Theirs  is  a  poverty  so  repugnant  that  not  even  the 
poor  succeed  in  bestowing  on  them  the  charity  of  a  smile. 

Richness  is  a  curse  like  work,  but  a  harder  and  more  shame¬ 
ful  curse.  He  who  is  marked  with  the  sign  of  wealth  has  com¬ 
mitted,  perhaps  unconsciously,  an  infamous  crime,  one  of  those 
mysterious  and  unimaginable  crimes  which  are  nameless  in 
human  language.  The  rich  man  is  either  under  the  burden  of 
the  vengeance  of  God,  or  God  wishes  to  put  him  to  the  test  to 
see  if  he  can  succeed  in  climbing  up  to  divine  poverty.  For  ^ 
the  rich  man  has  committed  the  greatest  sin,  the  most  abomi¬ 
nable  and  unpardonable.  The  rich  man  is  the  man  who  has 
fallen  because  of  an  exchange:  he  could  have  had  Heaven  and: 
he  chose  Earth.  He  could  have  lived  in  Paradise  and  he  has . 
chosen  Hell.  He  could  have  kept  his  soul  and  he  has  exchanged 
it  for  material  things.  He  could  have  loved  and  he  has  pre¬ 
ferred  to  be  hated.  He  could  have  had  happiness  and  he  has 
desired  power.  No  one  can  save  him.  Wealth  in  his  hands  is 
a  metal  which  buries  him  alive  under  its  icy  mass;  it  is  the: 
tumor  which  consumes  him  still  alive  in  his  corruption;  it  is 
the  fire  which  burns  him  and  reduces  him  to  a  terrible,  black  j 
mummy,  a  blind  paralytic,  black  mummy,  a  ghostly  carrion  i 
which  everlastingly  holds  out  its  empty  hand  in  the  cemeteries  ì 
of  the  centuries,  begging  in  vain  for  the  alms  of  charitable  ? 
remembrance. 

For  him  there  is  only  one  salvation:  to  become  a  poor  man,  , 
a  true  and  humble  poor  man  ;  to  throw  away  the  horrible  desti-  i 
tution  of  wealth  in  order  to  enter  again  into  poverty.  But  this  I 
resolution  is  the  hardest  that  the  rich  man  can  take.  The  rich  il 
man  by  the  very  fact  that  he  is  sickened  by  wealth  cannot  even  il 
imagine  that  the  entire  renunciation  of  wealth  would  be  the  be- 1 
ginning  of  redemption,  and  because  he  cannot  imagine  such  an  iy 
abdication,  he  cannot  even  deliberate  on  it,  cannot  weigh  thei 

’v|l| 

1 1fl 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST  195 

alternatives.  He  is  a  prisoner  in  the  impregnable  prison  of 
himself.  To  liberate  himself  he  must  first  be  free. 

The  rich  man  does  not  belong  to  himself,  but  belongs  to  in¬ 
animate  things.  He  has  not  the  time  to  think,  to  choose. 
Wealth  is  a  pitiless  master  who  allows  no  other  masters  near 
him.  The  rich  man  cannot  think  of  his  soul,  bowed  as  he  is 
under  the  care  of  his  riches,  under  his  thirst  to  increase  his 
riches,  under  the  fear  of  losing  his  riches,  under  the  material 
joys  which  are  offered  to  him  by  those  pieces  of  matter  which 
are  called  wealth.  He  cannot  even  imagine  that  his  sick,  suffo¬ 
cating,  mutilated,  worm-eaten  soul  needs  to  be  cured.  He  has 
;  taken  up  his  abode  in  that  part  of  the  world  which,  according 
I  to  contracts  and  laws,  he  has  the  right  to  call  hh,  and  often 
I  he  has  not  even  the  time,  the  wish,  or  the  power  to  enjoy  it. 

!  He  must  serve  it  and  take  care  of  it, — he  cannot  serve  or  take 
;  care  of  his  own  soul.  All  his  power  of  love  is  absorbed  by 
:  these  material  things,  which  order  him  about,  which  have  taken 
;  the  place  of  his  soul,  which  have  robbed  him  of  all  his  liberty. 
The  horrible  fate  of  the  rich  man  lies  in  this  double  absurdity: 
in  order  to  have  the  power  to  command  men  he  has  become 
the  slave  of  dead  things;  in  order  to  acquire  a  part  (and  such 
a  very  small  part  !  )  he  has  lost  the  whole. 

Nothing  is  ours  as  long  as  it  is  purs  alone.  Outside  of  him¬ 
self  man  can  possess,  actually  own,  nothing.  The  absolute  se¬ 
cret  of  owning  other  things  is  to  renounce  them.  Everything 
is  given  to  him  who  has  refused  everything.  But  he  who  wishes 
to  grasp  for  himself,  for  himself  alone,  a  part  of  the  goods  of 
this  world,  loses  both  what  he  has  acquired  and  everything 
else.  And  at  the  same  moment  he  is  incapable  of  knowing 
himself,  or  possessing  himself,  making  himself  greater. 
He  has  nothing  more,  not  even  the  things  which  in  appearance 
belong  to  him,  but  to  which  in  reality  he  belongs;  and  he  has 
!  never  had  his  own  soul,  the  one  piece  of  property  which  is 
1  worth  possessing.  He  is  the  most  destitute  and  despoiled  beg¬ 
gar  of  all  the  universe.  He  has  nothing.  How  then  can  he 
I  love  others,  give  to  others  himself  and  that  which  belongs  to 
i  himself,  exercise  that  loving  charity  which  would  conduct  him 


196 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


so  soon  to  the  Kingdom?  He  is  nothing  and  he  has  nothing. 
He  who  does  not  exist  cannot  change.  He  who  does  not  pos¬ 
sess  cannot  give.  How  then  can  the  rich  man,  who  is  no 
longer  his  own,  who  has  no  longer  a  soul,  transform  a  soul,  the 
only  possession  of  mankind,  into  something  nobler  and  more 
precious? 

“For  what  shall  it  profit  a  man,  if  he  shall  gain  the  whole 
world,  and  lose  his  own  soul?”  This  question  of  Christ’s,  sim¬ 
ple  like  all  revelations,  expresses  the  exact  meaning  of  the  pro¬ 
phetic  threat.  The  rich  man  not  only  loses  eternity,  but,  pulled 
down  by  his  wealth,  loses  his  life  here  below,  his  present  soul, 
the  happiness  of  his  present  earthly  life. 

“Ye  cannot  serve  God  and  mammon.”  The  Spirit  and  Gold 
are  two  masters  who  will  not  tolerate  any  division  or  sharing. 
They  are  jealous;  they  insist  on  having  the  whole  man.  And 
even  if  he  wishes,  the  man  cannot  divide  himself  in  two.  He 
must  be  all  here,  or  all  beyond  worldly  things.  For  the  faith¬ 
ful  servant  of  the  spirit,  gold  is  nothing;  for  him  who  serves 
gold,  “spirit”  is  a  word  without  meaning.  He  who  chooses  the 
spirit  throws  away  gold  and  all  the  things  bought  by  gold;  he 
who  desires  gold  puts  an  end  to  the  spirit  and  renounces  all 
the  benefits  of  the  spirit:  peace,  holiness,  love,  perfect  joy. 
The  first  is  a  poor  man  who  can  never  use  up  his  infinite 
wealth;  the  other  is  a  rich  man  who  can  never  escape  out  of  his 
infinite  poverty.  By  the  mysterious  law  of  renunciation  the 
poor  man  possesses  even  that  which  is  not  his — the  entire  uni¬ 
verse;  through  the  hard  law  of  perpetual  desire,  the  rich  man 
does  not 'even  possess  that  little  which  he  believes  to  be  his. 
God  gives  immensely  more  than  the  immensity  which  He  has 
promised.  Mammon  takes  away  even  that  very  little  which 
he  promises.  He  who  renounces  everything  has  everything 
given  him;  he  who  wishes  a  part  for  himself  alone,  finds  him¬ 
self  at  the  end  with  nothing. 

When  the  horrible  mystery  of  wealth  is  deeply  probed,  it  is 
easy  to  see  why  the  masters  of  men  have  considered  wealth  the 
kingdom  of  the  Demon  himself.  A  thing  which  costs  less  than 
ever3d:hing  else  is  bought  by  everything  else.  A  thing  which 
is  nothing,  the  actual  value  of  which  is  nothing,  is  bought  by 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


197 


giving  up  everything,  is  secured  by  exchanging  for  it  the  whole 
I  of  the  soul,  the  whole  of  life.  The  most  precious  thing  is  ex¬ 
changed  for  the  most  worthless. 

And  yet  even  this  infernal  absurdity  has  its  reason  for  be¬ 
ing,  in  the  economy  of  the  spirit.  Man  is  so  universally  and 
naturally  drawn  by  that  nothingness  called  wealth  that  he 
j  could  only  be  dissuaded  from  his  insensate  search  for  it  by  put¬ 
ting  a  price  so  great,  so  high,  so  out  of  all  proportion  that  the 
!  very  fact  of  paying  it  would  be  a  valid  proof  of  insanity  and 
I  crime.  But  not  even  the  conditions  of  the  bargain,  the  eternal 

[exchanged  for  the  ephemeral,  power  for  servitude,  sanctity  for 
damnation,  are  enough  to  keep  men  away  from  the  absurd  bar¬ 
gain  with  the  powers  of  evil.  Poor  people  do  not  rejoice  that 
i  they  are  poor.  Their  only  regret  is  that  they  cannot  be  rich; 

I  their  souls  are  contaminated  and  in  peril  like  those  of  the 
'  wealthy.  Almost  all  of  them  are  involuntarily  poor  men,  who 
ji  have  not  known  how  to  make  money  and  yet  have  lost  the 
i  spirit;  they  are  only  poverty-stricken  rich  people  who  have  not 
5  as  yet  any  cash. 

For  poverty,  voluntarily  accepted,  joyfully  desired,  is  the 
I  only  poverty  which  gives  true  wealth,  spiritual  wealth.  Abso- 
!i  lute  poverty  frees  men  for  the  conquest  of  the  absolute.  The 
I  Kingdom  of  Heaven  does  not  promise  poor  people  that  they 
j  shall  become  rich,  it  promises  rich  people  that  they  shall  enter 
i  into  it  when  they  become  freely  poor. 

^  SELL  EVERYTHING 

J 

i  The  tragic  paradox  implied  in  wealth  justifies  the  advice 
I  given  by  Jesus  to  those  who  wish  to  follow  Him. 

■  They  all  should  give  whatever  they  have  beyond  their  needs 
1  to  those  in  want.  But  the  rich  man  should  give  everything, 
i  To  the  young  man  who  comes  up  to  ask  Him  what  he  ought 
.  to  do  to  be  among  His  followers,  Jesus  answers:  ^Tf  thou  wilt 
j  be  perfect,  go  and  sell  that  thou  hast,  and  give  to  the  poor, 
;  and  thou  shalt  have  treasure  in  heaven.”  Giving  away  wealth 
is  not  a  loss  or  a  sacrifice.  Instead  of  this,  Jesus  knows  and 
all  those  know  who  understand  mankind  and  wealth  that  it  is 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


198 

a  magnificently  profitable  transaction,  an  incommensurable 
gain.  “Sell  whatsoever  thou  hast  and  give  to  the  poor  and 
thou  shalt  have  treasure  in  heaven  where  neither  moth  nor 
rust  doth  corrupt  and  where  thieves  do  not  break  through  nor 
steal;  for  where  your  treasure  is,  there  will  your  heart  be  also. 
Give  to  him  that  asketh  thee,  and  from  him  that  would  borrow 
from  thee,  turn  not  thou  away,  for  it  is  more  blessed  to  give 
than  to  receive.” 

Men  must  give  and  give  without  sparing,  light-heartedly  and  i 
without  calculation.  He  who  gives  in  order  to  get  something 
back  is  not  perfect.  He  who  gives  in  order  to  exchange  with 
others,  or  for  other  material  things,  acquires  nothing.  The 
recompense  is  elsewhere,  it  is  in  us.  Things  are  not  to  be 
given  away  that  they  may  be  paid  for  by  other  things,  but 
by  purity  and  contentment  alone.  “When  thou  makest  a 
dinner  or  a  supper  call  not  thy  friends  nor  thy  brethren,  neither 
thy  kinsmen  nor  thy  rich  neighbors,  lest  they  also  bid  thee  1 
again,  and  a  recompense  be  made  thee.  But  when  thou  makest  : 
a  feast  call  the  poor,  the  maimed,  the  lame,  the  blind;  and  I 
thou  shalt  be  blest,  for  they  cannot  recompense  thee,  for  thou  1 
shalt  be  recompensed  at  the  resurrection  of  the  just.” 

Even  before  Jesus’  time  men  had  been  advised  to  renounce  i 
wealth.  Jesus  was  not  the  first  to  find  in  poverty  one  of  I 
the  steps  to  perfection.  The  great  Vaddhamana,  the  Jain,  or  1 
triumpher,  added  to  the  commandments  of  Parswa,  founder  of  ' 
the  Freed,  the  doctrine  of  the  renunciation  of  all  possessions.  | 
Buddha,  his  contemporary,  exhorted  his  disciples  to  a  similar  i 
renunciation.  The  Cynics  stripped  themselves  of  all  material  i 
goods  to  be  independent  of  work  and  of  men,  and  to  be  able  1 
to  consecrate  their  freed  souls  to  truth.  Crates,  the  Theban  i 
nobleman,  disciple  of  Diogenes,  distributed  his  wealth  to  his  i 
fellow-citizens  and  turned  beggar.  Plato  wished  the  warriors  : 
in  his  Republic  to  have  no  possessions.  Dressed  in  purple  I 
and  seated  at  tables  inlaid  with  rare  stones,  the  Stoics  pro-  : 
nounced  eloquent  eulogies  on  poverty.  Aristophanes  puts  I 
blind  Pluto  on  the  stage  distributing  wealth  to  rascals  alone,  ^ 
almost  as  though  wealth  were  a  punishment. 

But  in  Jesus  the  love  of  poverty  is  not  an  ascetic  rule. 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


199 


nor  a  proud  disguise  for  ostentation.  Timon  of  Athens,  who 
was  reduced  to  poverty  after  having  fed  a  crowd  of  parasites 
with  indiscriminate  generosity,  was  not  a  poor  man  as  Christ 
would  have  men  poor.  Timon  was  poor  through  the  fault  of 
his  vainglory,  to  feed  his  own  desire  to  be  called  magnanimous 
and  liberal.  He  gave  to  everybody,  even  to  those  who  were 
not  needy.  Crates,  who  stripped  himself  of  all  his  property 
to  imitate  Diogenes,  was  the  slave  of  pride:  he  wished  to  do 
something  different  from  others,  to  acquire  the  name  of  philoso¬ 
pher  and  sage.  The  professional  beggary  of  the  Cynics  is  a 
picturesque  form  of  pride.  The  poverty  of  Plato’s  warriors 
is  a  measure  of  political  prudence.  The  first  republics  con¬ 
quered  and  flourished  as  long  as  the  citizens  contented  them¬ 
selves,  as  in  old  Sparta  and  old  Rome,  with  strict  poverty, 
and  they  fell  as  soon  as  they  valued  gold  more  than  sober  and 
modest  living.  But  men  of  antiquity  did  not  despise  wealth 
in  itself.  They  held  it  dangerous  when  it  accumulated  in  the 
hands  of  the  few,  they  considered  it  unjust  when  it  was  not 
spent  with  judicious  liberality.  But  Plato,  who  desires  for  his 
citizens  a  condition  half-way  between  need  and  abundance, 
puts  riches  among  the  good  things  of  human  life.  He  puts 
it  last  of  all,  but  he  does  not  forget  it.  And  Aristophanes  would 
kneel  before  Pluto  if  the  blind  God  should  acquire  his  sight 
again  and  give  riches  to  worthy  people. 

In  the  Gospel,  poverty  is  not  a  philosophical  ornament  nor 
a  mystic  mode.  To  be  poor  is  not  enough  to  entitle  one  to 
citizenship  in  the  Kingdom.  Poverty  of  the  body  is  a  prelimi¬ 
nary  requisite,  like  humility  of  the  spirit.  He  who  is  not  con¬ 
vinced  that  his  estate  is  low  never  thinks  of  climbing  high; 
no  one  can  feel  a  zest  for  true  treasures  if  he  is  not  freed 
from  all  material  property, — from  that  winding-sheet  which 
blinds  the  eyes  and  binds  down  the  wings. 

When  he  does  not  suffer  from  his  poverty,  when  he  glories 
in  his  poverty  instead  of  tormenting  himself  to  convert  it  into 
wealth,  the  poor  man  is  certainly  much  nearer  to  moral  per¬ 
fection  than  the  rich  man.  But  the  rich  man  who  has  despoiled 
i  himself  in  favor  of  the  poor  and  has  chosen  to  live  side  by 
side  with  his  new  brothers  is  still  nearer  perfection  than  the 


i 


200 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


man  who  was  born  and  reared  in  poverty.  That  he  has  been  ^ 
touched  by  a  grace  so  rare  and  prodigious  gives  him  the  right 
to  hope  for  the  greatest  blessedness.  To  renounce  what  you 
have  never  had  may  be  meritorious,  because  imagination  mag¬ 
nifies  absent  things;  but  it  is  the  sign  of  supreme  perfectibility 
to  renounce  everything  that  you  actually  did  possess,  posses¬ 
sions  that  were  envied  by  every  one.  ^ 

The  poor  man  who  is  sober,  chaste,  simple  and  contented 
because  he  lacks  means  and  occasions  for  anything  else,  is  in¬ 
clined  to  look  for  a  recompense  in  pleasures  which  do  not  cost  : 
money,  and  as  it  were  for  a  revenge  in  a  spiritual  superiority  j 
where  prosperous  people  cannot  compete  with  him.  But  often 
his  virtues  come  from  his  impotence  or  from  his  ignorance; 
he  does  not  turn  from  the  right  course — ^he  cannot  afford  to 
do  so — he  does  not  pile  up  treasure  because  he  possesses  only 
the  strictly  necessary;  he  is  not  drunken  and  licentious  because 
wine-sellers  and  women  of  the  streets  give  no  credit.  His  life,  j 
often  hard,  servile,  dark,  redeems  his  faults.  And  his  suffer¬ 
ing  forces  him  to  lift  his  eyes  towards  Heaven  in  search  of 
consolation.  We  do  so  little  for  the  poor  that  we  have  no 
right  to  judge  them.  As  they  are,  abandoned  by  their  brothers, 
kept  far  from  those  who  could  speak  to  their  hearts,  avoided 
by  those  who  shrink  from  the  proximity  of  their  sweaty  bodies,:* 
excluded  from  those  worlds  of  intelligence  and  the  arts  whichfl 
might  make  their  poverty  more  endurable,  the  poor  are,  in  the- 
universal  wretchedness  of  mankind,  the  least  impure.  If  they  ' 
were  more  loved,  they  would  be  better  men.  How  can  those|ii 
who  have  left  them  alone  in  their  poverty  have  the  heart  to| 
condemn  them?  | 

Jesus  loved  the  poor;  He  loved  them  for  the  compassion; 
which  He  felt  for  them;  He  loved  them  because  He  felt  themi 
nearer  to  His  soul,  more  prepared  to  understand  Him  than; 
other  men.  He  loved  them  because  they  constantly  gave  Himi 
the  happiness  of  service,  of  giving  bread  to  the  hungry,! 
strength  to  the  weak,  hope  to  the  unhappy.  Jesus  loved  thej 
poor  because  He  saw  that  if  they  were  justly  treated  they 
would  be  the  most  legitimate  inhabitants  of  the  Kingdom. 
He  loved  the  poor  because  they  rendered  the  renunciation  of 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


201 


the  rich  easier  by  the  stimulus  of  charity;  but  most  of  all  He 
loved  the  poor  men  who  had  been  rich  and  who  for  the  love 
of  the  Kingdom  had  become  poor.  Their  renunciation  was 
the  greatest  act  of  faith  in  His  promise.  They  had  given  that 
which  considered  absolutely  is  nothing,  but  in  the  eyes  of  the 
world  is  everything,  for  the  certainty  of  sharing  in  a  more  per¬ 
fect  life.  They  had  been  obliged  to  conquer  in  themselves  one 
of  the  most  profoundly  rooted  instincts  of  man.  Jesus,  born 
a  poor  man  among  the  poor,  for  the  poor,  never  left  his 
brothers.  He  gave  to  them  the  fructifying  abundance  of  His 
divine  property.  But  in  His  heart  He  sought  the  poor  man 
who  had  not  always  been  poor,  the  rich  man  ready  to  strip 
himself  for  His  love.  He  sought  him,  perhaps  He  never  found 
him.  But  He  felt  this  longed-for,  unknown  brother  man  ten¬ 
derly  nearer  to  his  heart  than  all  the  docile  seekers  who 
^crowded  about  Him. 

I  THE  devil’s  dung 

!  Note  well,  you  men  who  are  yet  to  be  born  !  Jesus  was  never 
I  willing  to  touch  a  coin  with  His  hand.  Those  hands  of  His 
j  which  molded  the  clay  of  the  earth  as  a  cure  for  blind  eyes, 

I  those  hands  which  touched  the  contaminated  flesh  of  lepers 
and  of  the  dead,  those  hands  which  clasped  the  body  of  Judas, 
so  much  more  contaminated  than  clay,  than  leprosy,  than 
putrefaction,  those  white  pure  healing  hands  which  nothing 
could  sully,  never  suffered  themselves  to  be  touched  by  one 
of  those  metal  disks  which  carry  in  relief  the  profiles  of  the 
proprietors  of  the  world.  Jesus  could  mention  money  in  His 
parables;  He  could  see  it  in  the  hands  of  others,  but  touch  it — 
ino!  To  Him  who  scorned  nothing,  money  was  disgusting.  It 
was  repugnant  to  Him  with  a  repugnance  that  was  like  horror. 
All  His  nature  was  in  revolt  at  the  thought  of  a  contact  with 
(those  filthy  symbols  of  wealth. 

I  But  one  day  even  Jesus  was  constrained  to  look  at  a  piece 
bf  money.  They  asked  Him  if  it  was  permitted  to  the  true 
Israelite  to  pay  the  tribute,  and  He  answered  at  once,  “Show 
me  the  tribute  money.”  They  showed  it  to  Him,  but  He  would 


202 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


not  take  it.  It  was  a  Roman  coin  stamped  with  the  hypocritical 
face  of  Augustus.  But  He  wished  to  seem  not  to  know  whose 
face  it  was.  He  asked,  “Whose  is  this  image  and  superscrip¬ 
tion?^’  They  answered,  “Caesar’s.”  Then  He  threw  into  the 
faces  of  the  wily  interrogators  the  answer  which  silenced  them, 
“Render  therefore  unto  Caesar  the  things  which  are  Caesar’s; 
and  unto  God  the  things  that  are  God’s.” 

Give  back  that  which  is  not  yours,  money  does  not  belong 
to  us.  It  is  manufactured  by  the  powerful  for  the  needs  of 
power.  It  is  the  property  of  kings  and  of  the  kingdom,  of 
that  other  kingdom  which  is  not  ours.  The  king  represents 
force  and  is  the  protector  of  wealth;  but  we  have  nothing  to 
do  with  violence  and  reject  riches.  Our  Kingdom  has  no  ; 
potentates  and  has  no  rich  men;  the  Kang  of  our  Heaven  does  ' 
not  coin  money.  Money  is  a  means  for  the  exchange  of  ^ 
earthly  goods,  but  we  do  not  seek  for  earthly  goods.  What  ' 
little  is  necessary  for  us,  a  little  sunshine,  a  little  air,  a  little  ! 
water,  a  piece  of  bread,  a  cloak,  will  be  given  freely  to  us  by 
God  and  by  God’s  friends.  Tire  yourselves  out,  you  other  , 
people,  all  your  lives  to  gather  together  a  great  pile  of  those  ^ 
round  minted  tokens.  We  have  no  use  for  them.  For  us  they  I 
are  definitely  superfluous.  Therefore  we  give  them  back;  we 
give  them  back  to  him  who  has  had  them  coined,  to  him  who 
has  had  his  portrait  put  on  them,  so  that  all  should  know 
that  they  are  his. 

Jesus  never  needed  to  give  back  any  money  because  He 
never  possessed  any.  He  gave  the  order  to  His  disciples  not  i 
to  carry  bags  for  offerings  on  their  journeys.  He  made  one  i 
single  exception,  and  that  a  fearful  one.  The  Gospel  tells 
us  that  one  apostle  kept  the  common  purse.  This  disciple 
was  Judas,  and  even  Judas  felt  himself  forced  to  give 
back  the  payment  for  his  betrayal  before  disappearing  in  death. 
Judas  is  the  mysterious  victim  sacrificed  to  the  curse  of  money. 
Money  carries  with  it,  together  with  the  filth  of  the  hands  i 
which  have  clutched  and  handled  it,  the  inexorable  contagion  ; 
of  crime.  Among  the  unclean  things  which  men  have  manu¬ 
factured  to  defile  the  earth  and  defile  themselves,  money  is  , 
perhaps  the  most  unclean.  These  counters  of  coined  metal  - 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


203 


which  pass  and  repass  every  day  among  hands  still  soiled 
with  sweat  or  blood,  worn  by  the  rapacious  fingers  of  thieves, 
of  merchants,  of  misers;  this  round  and  viscid  sputum  of  the 
Mint,  desired  by  all,  sought  for,  stolen,  envied,  loved  more 
than  love  and  often  more  than  life;  these  ugly  pieces  of 
stamped  matter,  which  the  assassin  gives  to  the  cut-throat, 
the  usurer  to  the  hungry,  the  enemy  to  the  traitor,  the  swindler 
to  his  partner,  the  simonist  to  the  barterer  in  religious  offices, 
the  lustful  to  the  woman  bought  and  sold,  these  foul  vehicles 
of  evil  which  persuade  the  son  to  kill  his  father,  the  wife  to 
betray  her  husband,  the  brother  to  defraud  his  brother,  the 
wicked  poor  man  to  stab  the  wicked  rich  man,  the  servant  to 
cheat  his  master,  the  highwayman  to  despoil  the  traveler;  this 
money,  these  material  emblems  of  matter,  are  the  most  terrify¬ 
ing  objects  manufactured  by  man.  Money  which  has  been  the 
;  death  of  so  many  bodies  is  every  day  the  death  of  thousands 
of  souls.  More  contagious  than  the  rags  of  a  man  with  the  pest, 

,  than  the  pus  of  an  ulcer,  than  the  filth  of  a  sewer,  it  enters 
into  every  house,  shines  on  the  counters  of  the  money-changers, 
settles  down  in  money-chests,  profanes  the  pillow  of  sleep, 

•  hides  itself  in  the  fetid  darkness  of  squalid  back-rooms,  sullies 
1  the  innocent  hands  of  children,  tempts  virgins,  pays  the  hang- 
I  man  for  his  work,  goes  about  on  the  face  of  the  earth  to  stir 
up  hatred,  to  set  cupidity  on  fire,  to  hasten  corruption  and 
death. 

Bread,  already  holy  on  the  family  board,  becomes  on  the 
Table  of  the  Church  the  everlasting  body  of  Christ.  Money 
(too  is  the  visible  sign  of  a  transubstantiation.  It  is  the  in- 
\  famous  Host  of  the  Demon.  He  who  loves  money  and  receives 
j  it  with  joy  is  in  visible  communion  with  the  Demon.  He  who 
touches  money  with  pleasure  touches  without  knowing  it  the 
filth  of  the  Demon.  The  pure  cannot  touch  it,  the  holy  man 
;  cannot  endure  it.  They  know  with  unshakable  certainty  its 
jugly  essence,  and  they  have  for  money  the  same  horror  that 
^  the  rich  man  has  for  poverty. 


!| 


204 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


THE  KINGS  OF  THE  NATIONS 

“Whose  is  this  image?”  asks  Jesus  when  they  put  the  Roman  ,j 
money  before  his  eyes.  He  knows  that  face,  He  knows,  as  I 
they  all  do,  that  Octavius  by  a  sequence  of  extraordinary  good  ^ 
luck  became  the  monarch  of  the  world  with  the  adulatory 
surname  of  Augustus.  He  knows  that  falsely  youthful  profile,  I 
that  head  of  clustering  curls,  the  great  nose  that  juts  forward 
as  if  to  hide  the  cruelty  of  the  small  mouth,  the  lips  rigorously  , 
closed.  It  is  a  head,  like  those  of  all  kings,  cut  off  from  the  i 
body,  cut  off  below  the  neck;  sinister  image  of  a  voluntary  , 
and  eternal  decapitation.  Caesar  is  the  king  of  the  past,  the  i 
head  of  the  armies,  the  coiner  of  silver  and  gold,  fallible  ad-  : 
ministrator  of  insufficient  justice.  Jesus  is  the  King  of  the 
future,  the  liberator  of  servants,  the  abdicator  of  wealth,  the  i 
master  of  love.  There  is  nothing  in  common  between  i 
them.  Jesus  has  come  to  overthrow  the'  domination  of  ; 
Caesar,  to  undo  the  Roman  Empire  and  every  earthly  ; 
empire,  but  not  to  put  Himself  in  Caesar’s  place.  If  men  will  J 
listen  to  Him  there  will  never  be  any  Caesar  again.  Jesus 
is  not  the  heir  who  conspires  against  the  sovereign  to  take  his 
place.  He  has  come  peaceably  to  remove  all  rulers.  Caesar  i 
is  the  strongest  and  most  famous  of  His  rivals,  but  also  the 
most  remote,  because  his  force  lies  in  the  slothfulness  of  men, 
in  the  weakness  of  peoples.  But  One  has  come  who  will 
awaken  the  sleeping,  open  the  eyes  of  the  blind,  give  back 
strength  to  the  v/eak.  When  everything  is  fulfilled  and  the 
Kingdom  is  founded — a  Kingdom  which  needs  no  soldiers  nor 
judges  nor  slaves  nor  money,  but  only  renewed  and  living  souls 
■ — Caesar’s  empire  will  vanish  like  a  pile  of  ashes  under  the  vic¬ 
torious  breath  of  the  wind. 

As  long  as  Caesar  is  there,  we  can  give  back  to  him  what 
is  his.  For  the  new  man,  money  is  nothing.  We  give  back  I 
to  Caesar,  vowed  to  eternal  nothingness,  that  silver  nothingness 
which  is  none  of  ours.  Jesus  is  always  looking  forward  with 
passionate  longing  to  the  arrival  of  the  second  earthly  Paradise 
and  He  takes  no  heed  of  governors  because  the  new  land 
which  He  announces  will  not  need  governors.  A  people  of 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


205 


holy  men  who  love  each  other  would  have  no  use  for  Kings, 
law-courts  and  armies.  On  one  occasion  only  does  He  speak 
of  kings,  and  then  only  to  overturn  the  common  established 
idea.  “The  Kings  of  the  Gentiles,’’  He  says  to  His  disciples, 
“exercise  lordship  over  them,  and  they  that  exercise  authority 
upon  them  are  called  benefactors.  But  ye  shall  not  be  so, 
but  he  that  is  greatest  among  you,  let  him  be  as  the  younger, 
and  he  that  is  chief,  as  he  that  doth  serve.”  It  is  the  theory 
of  perfect  equality  in  human  relationship.  The  great  is  small, 
the  master  is  servant,  the  King  is  slave.  Since,  according  to 
Christ’s  teachings,  he  who  governs  must  become  like  him  who 
serves,  the  opposite  is  true,  and  he  who  serves  has  the  same 
rights  and  honors  as  he  who  governs.  Among  the  righteous, 
there  may  be  some  more  ardent  than  others;  there  may  be 
saints  who  were  sinners  up  to  the  last  day;  there  may  be  other 
innocent  ones  who  were  citizens  of  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven 
from  their  birth.  Different  planes  of  spiritual  greatness  may 
exist  as  variations  of  the  perfection  common  to  all;  but  to  the 
end  of  time  every  category  of  superior  and  inferior,  of  master 
and  subordinate,  shall  be  abolished.  Authority  presupposes, 
even  if  it  is  badly  wielded,  a  flock  to  lead,  a  minority  to  punish, 
bestiality  to  shackle;  but  when  all  men  are  holy,  there  will  be 
,,  no  more  need  for  commands  and  obedience,  for  laws  and  pun- 
l  ishments.  The  Kingdom  of  Heaven  can  dispense  with  the 
p  commands  of  Force. 

In  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven  men  will  not  hate  each  other 
;  and  will  no  longer  desire  riches;  every  reason  and  need  for 
'  government  will  disappear  immediately  after  these  two  great 
Ji  changes.  The  name  of  the  path  which  conducts  to  perfect 
liberty  is  not  Destruction  but  Holiness.  And  it  is  not  found 
in  the  sophistries  of  Godwin,  or  of  Stirner,  or  Proudhon,  or 
of  Kropotkin,  but  only  in  the  gospel  of  Jesus  Christ. 

SWORD  AND  FIRE 

Every  time  that  the  sycophants  of  the  powerful  have  desired 
to  sanctify  the  ambition  of  the  ambitious,  the  violence  of  the 
violent,  the  fierceness  of  the  fierce,  the  pugnacity  of  the  pug- 


2o6 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


nacious,  the  conquests  of  the  conquerors,  every  time  that  the 
paid  sophists  or  frenzied  orators  have  tried  to  reconcile  pagan 
ferocity  with  Christian  gentleness,  to  use  the  Cross  as  the  hilt  of 
the  sword,  to  justify  blood  spilt  through  hatred  by  the  blood 
which  flowed  on  Calvary  to  teach  love;  every  time,  in  short,  ] 
that  people  wish  to  use  the  doctrine  of  peace  to  legitimatize 
war,  and  make  Christ  surety  for  Genghis  Khan  or  for  Bona¬ 
parte  or  even  through  refinement  of  infamy,  the  outrider  of 
Mahomet,  you  will  see  them  quote,  with  the  inexorable  punctu¬ 
ality  of  all  commonplaces,  the  celebrated  gospel  text,  which 
everybody  knows  by  heart  and  very  few  have  ever  understood.  : 

“Think  not  that  I  am  come  to  send  peace  on  earth:  I  came  i 
not  to  send  peace,  but  a  sword.”  Some  more  learned  add,  “I  ] 
am  come  to  send  fire  on  the  earth.”  Others  rush  forward  to 
present  the  decisive  verse,  “The  kingdom  of  heaven  suffereth^ 
violence,  and  the  violent  take  it  by  force.” 

What  angel  of  eloquence,  what  supernatural  enlightener,' 
can  ever  reveal  to  these  hardened  quoters  the  true  meaning  of 
the  words  which  they  repeat  with  such  light  frivolity?  Theyi 
do  not  look  at  the  words  which  come  before  and  after;  they,' 
pay  no  attention  to  the  occasion  on  which  they  were  spoken.  I 
They  do  not  imagine  for  a  moment  that  they  can  have  another  ': 
meaning  from  the  common  one. 

When  Jesus  says  that  He  has  come  to  bring  a  sword, — on  : 
as  it  is  written  in  the  parallel  passage  of  Luke,  “Discord,”'. 
He  is  speaking  to  His  Disciples  who  are  on  the  point  of  de-  ) 
parting  to  announce  the  coming  of  the  Kingdom.  And  imme-  !  i 
diately  after  having  spoken  of  the  sword.  He  explains  with  ; 
familiar  examples  what  He  meant  to  say:  “For  I  am  come' 
to  set  a  man  at  variance  against  his  father,  and  the  daughter i»! 
against  her  mother,  and  the  daughter-in-law  against  her  mother-  i 
in-law.  And  a  man^s  foes  shall  be  they  of  his  own  household.lj  I 
For  from  henceforth  there  shall  be  five  in  one  house  divided,  i 
three  against  two,  and  two  against  three.”  The  sword  there-  i 
fore  does  not  mean  war;  it  is  a  figure  of  speech  which  dignifies  i 
division.  The  sword  is  what  divides,  cuts  in  two,  disunites;  i 
and  the  preaching  of  the  gospel  shall  divide  men  of  the  same  q 
family.  Because  among  men  there  are  those  deaf  and  those  ^ 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


207 


jwho  hear,  those  who  are  slow  and  those  who  are  quick,  those 
I  who  deny  and  those  who  believe.  Until  all  are  converted  and 
r ‘brothers  in  the  Word,”  discord  will  reign  on  earth.  But  dis- 
|cord  is  not  war,  is  not  massacre.  Those  who  have  heard  and 
[believe — the  Christians — will  not  assault  those  who  do  not 
thear  and  do  not  believe.  They  will,  it  is  true,  take  up  arms 
!  against  their  refractory  and  stubborn  brothers,  but  these  arms 
I  will  be  preaching,  example,  pardon,  love.  Those  who  are  not 
'converted  perhaps  will  begin  real  warfare,  the  warfare  of  vio- 
j  lence  and  blood,  but  they  will  begin  it  exactly  because  they  are 
I  not  converted,  precisely  because  they  are  not  yet  Christians. 

I  The  triumph  of  the  Gospel  is  the  end  of  all  wars,  of  wars  be¬ 
tween  man  and  man,  between  family  and  family,  between  caste 
sand  caste,  between  people  and  people.  If  the  Gospel  at  first 
jis  the  cause  of  separations  and  discord  the  fault  is  not  in  the 
(truths  taught  in  the  Gospel  but  in  the  fact  that  these  truths 
[are  not  yet  practiced  by  all. 

When  Jesus  proclaims  that  he  comes  to  bring  fire,  only  a 
I  literal-minded  barbarian  can  think  of  murderous  and  destruc¬ 
tive  fire,  worthy  auxiliary  of  human  warfare.  “What  will  I  if 
jit  be  already  kindled!”  The  fire  desired  by  the  Son  of  Man 
sj  is  the  fire  of  purification,  of  enthusiasm,  the  ardor  of  sacrifice, 
lithe  refulgent  flame  of  love.  Until  all  souls  are  burning  and 
;!■  consumed  in  that  fire,  the  word  of  the  Gospel  will  be  but  use¬ 
less  sound,  and  the  Kingdom  still  far  away.  To  renew  the  con- 
1!  taminated  and  hateful  family  of  men,  a  wonderful  outburst  of 
!;  grief  and  of  passion  is  needed.  The  complacent  must  suffer,  the 
j  cold  must  burn,  the  insensible  must  cry  out,  the  tepid  must 
'I  flame  like  torches  in  the  night.  All  the  filth  accumulated  in  the 
ii  secret  life  of  men,  all  the  sediments  of  sin  which  make  of  every 
:il  soul  an  offensive  sewer,  all  the  corruption  which  shuts  the  ears 
I  and  suffocates  the  hearts,  must  be  burned  up  in  this  miraculous 
spiritual  fire,  which  Jesus  came  to  kindle  in  our  hearts. 

But  to  pass  beyond  this  wall  of  flame  there  is  need  for 
strength  of  soul  and  a  boldness  not  possessed  by  all,  possessed 
I  only  by  the  valorous;  and  thus  Jesus  can  say,  “The  Kingdom 
:  of  Heaven  suffereth  violence  and  the  violent  take  it  by  force.” 
i  The  word  violent  has  as  a  matter  of  fact  in  the  text  the  evident 


2o8 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


meaning  of  “strong,”  of  men  who  know  how  to  take  doors 
by  assault  without  hesitating  or  trembling.  “Sword,”  “fire,” 
“violence,”  are  words  which  are  not  to  be  taken  in  the  literal 
sense,  so  pleasing  to  the  advocates  of  massacres.  They  are 
figurative  words  which  we  are  forced  to  use  to  reach  the  torpid 
imagination  of  the  crowds.  The  sword  is  the  symbol  of  the 
divisions  between  those  first  persuaded  and  those  who  are  last 
in  believing;  fire  is  purifying  love;  violence  is  the  strength 
necessary  to  make  oneself  over  and  to  arrive  on  the  threshold 
of  the  Kingdom.  Any  one  who  understands  this  passage  in 
any  other  way  either  does  not  know  how  to  read,  or  is  deter¬ 
mined  to  misread. 

Jesus  is  the  man  of  Peace.  He  has  come  to  bring  Peace. 
The  Gospels  are  nothing  but  proclamations  and  instructions 
for  Peace.  The  very  night  of  His  birth  celestial  voices  sang 
in  the  sky  the  prophetic  augury:  “Peace  on  Earth  to  men  of 
good  will.”  On  the  Mount  one  of  the  first  ^promises  which 
flowed  from  the  heart  and  from  the  lips  of  Christ  is  that 
directed  to  the  peacemakers,  “Blessed  are  the  peacemakers: 
for  they  shall  be  called  the  children  of  God.”  When  the  apos¬ 
tles  are  ready  to  depart  on  their  mission  He  commands  them 
to  wish  peace  to  all  the  houses  where  they  enter.  To  the  dis¬ 
ciples,  to  His  friends.  He  counsels,  “Have  peace  one  with  an¬ 
other.”  Drawing  near  to  Jerusalem,  He  looks  at  it  pityingly 
and  exclaims,  “If  thou  hadst  known,  even  thou,  at  least  in 
this  thy  day,  the  things  which  belong  unto  thy  peace!”  and  the 
terrible  night  on  the  Mount  of  Olives,  while  the  mercenaries 
armed  with  swords  are  binding  Him,  He  pronounces  the  su¬ 
preme  condemnation  of  violence,  “For  all  they  that  take  the 
sword  shall  perish  with  the  sword,”  He  understands  the  evils 
of  discord,  “Every  kingdom  divided  against  itself  is  brought 
to  desolation;  and  every  city  or  house  divided  against  itself 
shall  not  stand.”  And  in  His  talk  on  the  last  things,  in  the 
grand  apocal3^tic  prophecy.  Fie  announces  among  the  terrible 
signs  of  the  end  together  with  famine,  earthquakes  and  tribula¬ 
tion,  also  wars.  “And  ye  shall  hear  of  wars  and  rumours  of 
wars.  ...  For  nation  shall  rise  against  nation,  and  kingdom 
against  kingdom.” 


I 

I 

li 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


209 


f: 


For  Jesus  discord  is  an  evil;  war  is  a  crime.  His  God  is 
not  the  old  Lord  of  Battles.  The  apologists  for  great  massacres 
confuse  the  Old  and  the  New  Testament.  But  the  New  is  new 
exactly  because  it  transforms  the  Old. 

Only  when  considered  as  a  punishment  can  war  be  thought 
of  as  divine.  War  is  the  terrible  retribution  of  men  who  have 
recourse  to  war;  it  is  the  cruelest  manifestation  of  the  hatred 
which  broods  and  boils  in  human  hearts,  the  hatred  which 
drives  men  to  take  up  arms  to  destroy  one  another.  War  is 
at  the  same  time  a  crime  and  its  own  punishment. 

But  when  hate  is  abolished  in  every  heart,  war  will  be  in¬ 
comprehensible:  our  most  terrible  punishment  will  disappear 
together  with  our  greatest  sin.  Then  at  last  Vvdll  arrive  the 
day  longed  for  by  Isaiah  when,  ^^they  shall  beat  their  swords 
into  plow-shares,  and  their  spears  into  pruninghooks  :  nation 
shall  not  lift  up  sword  against  nation,  neither  shall  they  learn 
war  any  more.’’ 

That  day  announced  by  Isaiah  is  the  day  on  which  the  Ser¬ 
mon  on  the  Mount  shall  become  the  only  law  recognized  on 
earth. 


ONE  FLESH  ONLY 

.! 

Jesus  sanctions  the  union  of  man  and  woman  even  in  the 
:  flesh.  As  long  as  kings  remain,  we  are  to  give  back  to  them 
1  the  coins  stamped  with  their  names;  as  long  as  men  are  not 
Ì  like  angels  the  human  race  must  perpetuate  itself. 

The  Family  and  the  State,  imperfect  expedients  compared 
'  with  heavenly  beatitude,  are  necessary  during  our  terrestrial 
3  probation;  and  since  they  are  necessary  they  should  at  least 
3  become  less  impure  and  less  imperfect.  As  long  as  rulers 
J  exist,  at  least  the  man  who  rules  should  feel  himself  the  equal 
!  of  the  man  who  serves.  As  long  as  marriage  exists,  the  union 

■  between  man  and  woman  should  be  eternal  and  faithful. 

In  marriage  Jesus  sees  first  of  all  the  joining  of  two  bodies. 

I  On  this  point  He  ratifies  the  metaphor  of  the  Old  Law,  “So 

■  then  they  are  no  more  twain,  but  one  flesh.”  Husband  and  wife 
are  one  body,  inseparable.  This  man  shall  never  have  another 


210 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


woman;  this  woman  shall  never  know  another  man  until  death 
divides  them.  The  mating  of  male  and  female,  when  it  is 
not  the  expression  of  careless  wantonness,  or  furtive  fornica¬ 
tion,  when  it  is  the  meeting  of  two  healthy  virginities,  when 
it  is  preceded  by  free  choice,  by  a  chaste  passion,  by  a  public 
and  consecrated  covenant,  has  an  almost  mystic  character 
which  nothing  can  cancel.  The  choice  is  irrevocable,  the  pas¬ 
sion  is  confirmed,  the  compact  is  for  eternity.  Within  the  two 
bodies  clinging  to  each  other  with  bodily  desire,  there  are  two 
souls  which  recognize  each  other  and  find  each  other  in  love. 
Their  flesh  becomes  one  flesh;  their  two  souls  become  one  soul. 

The  two  have  been  fused  into  one,  and  from  this  com¬ 
munion  will  be  born  a  new  creature  formed  of  the  essence 
of  both,  which  will  be  the  visible  form  of  their  union.  Love 
makes  them  like  God,  creators  of  a  new  and  miraculous  crea¬ 
tion. 

But  this  Duality  of  the  flesh  and  of  the  spirit — the  most 
perfect  among  imperfect  human  relations — should  never  be 
disturbed  or  interrupted.  Adultery  corrupts  it,  divorce  destroys 
it.  Adultery  treacherously  corrodes  the  union;  divorce  repu¬ 
diates  it  definitely.  Adultery  is  a  secret  divorce  founded  upon 
untruth  and  betrayal;  divorce  followed  by  another  marriage 
is  sanctioned  adultery. 

Jesus  always  condemns  adultery  and  divorce  in  the  most 
solemn  and  absolute  manner.  His  whole  nature  holds  unfaith¬ 
fulness  in  horror.  There  will  come  a  day,  he  warns  people, 
in  speaking  of  heavenly  life,  in  which  men  and  women  will 
not  marry;  but  up  to  that  day  marriage  should  have  at  least 
all  the  perfections  possible  to  its  imperfection.  And  Jesus 
who  always  goes  below  the  surface  of  things  does  not  call 
adulterer  only  the  man  who  robs  his  brother  of  his  wife,  but 
also  the  man  who  looks  at  her  in  the  street  with  lustful  eyes. 
The  man  who  has  underhand  relations  with  another  man^s 
wife  is  an  adulterer,  but  no  less  an  adulterer  is  he  who,  having 
put  aside  his  own  wife,  marries  another.  On  one  occasion 
alone.  He  seems  to  admit  the  possibility  of  divorce  to  the 
husband  of  an  adulteress;  but  the  crime  of  the  repudiated 


f 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


2II 


wife  could  never  justify  the  crime  which  the  betrayed  man 
would  commit  in  taking  another  wife. 

Confronted  with  a  law  so  absolute  and  so  rigorous,  even  the 
Disciples  took  alarm.  ‘‘If  the  case  of  the  man  be  so  with  his 
wife,  it  is  not  good  to  marry.  But  he  said  unto  them,  All  men 
cannot  receive  this  saying,  save  they  to  whom  it  is  given.  For 
there  are  some  eunuchs,  which  were  so  born  from  their  moth¬ 
er’s  womb  :  and  there  are  some  eunuchs  which  were  made  eu¬ 
nuchs  of  men:  and  there  be  eunuchs,  which  have  made  them¬ 
selves  eunuchs  for  the  kingdom  of  heaven’s  sake.  He  that  is 
able  to  receive  it,  let  him  receive  it.” 

Marriage  is  a  concession  to  human  nature,  and  to  the  propa¬ 
gation  of  life.  “All  men  cannot  receive  this  saying,”  are  not 
capable  of  remaining  chaste,  virgin,  and  alone,  but  only  “they 
to  whom  it  is  given.”  Perfect  celibacy  is  a  grace,  a  reward  of 
the  victory  of  the  spirit  over  the  body. 

Any  man  who  wishes  to  give  all  his  love  to  a  great  under¬ 
taking  must  condemn  himself  to  chastity.  He  cannot  serve 
both  humanity  and  the  individual.  The  man  who  has  a  diffi¬ 
cult  mission  to  carry  out,  demanding  all  his  strength  up  to  the 
last  of  his  days,  cannot  tie  himself  to  a  woman.  Marriage 
means  abandoning  oneself  to  another  being — but  the  Saviour 
must  abandon  himself  to  all  other  beings.  The  union  of  two 
souls  is  not  enough  for  him — and  it  would  make  more  difficult, 
perhaps  impossible,  union  with  all  other  souls.  The  responsi¬ 
bilities  which  come  with  the  choice  of  a  mate,  the  birth  of 
children,  the  creation  of  a  little  community  in  the  midst  of 
the  great  community  of  the  human  race,  are  so  heavy  that  they 
would  be  a  daily  hindrance  to  undertakings  infinitely  more 
serious.  The  man  who  wishes  to  lead  other  men,  to  transform 
them,  cannot  bind  himself  for  all  his  life  to  one  being  alone. 
He  would  need  to  be  faithless  to  his  wife  or  to  his  mission. 
He  loves  all  his  brothers  too  much  to  love  one  only  of  his 
sisters.  The  Hero  is  solitary.  Solitude  is  his  penalty  and  his 
greatness.  He  renounces  the  pleasures  of  marital  love,  but 
the  love  which  is  in  his  heart,  when  communicated  to  all  men, 
is  multiplied  into  a  sublimation  of  sacrifice  surpassing  all 


I 


212 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


earthly  joys.  The  man  with  no  mate  is  alone,  but  is  free; 
his  soul,  unhampered  by  common  and  material  thoughts,  can 
rise  to  the  heights.  He  does  not  beget  children  of  his  own 
flesh,  but  he  brings  to  a  second  birth  the  children  of  his  spirit. 

It  is  not  given  to  every  one,  however,  to  resist  and  abstain. 
^‘He  that  is  able  to  receive  it,  let  him  receive  it.’’  The  founda¬ 
tion  of  the  Kingdom  needs  all  men  who  will  give  all  their  souls 
to  it;  the  lusts  of  the  flesh,  even  when  confined  to  legitimate 
marriage,  are  weakening  for  him  v/ho  should  give  all  his  atten¬ 
tion  to  the  things  of  the  spirit. 

Those  who  will  know  the  resurrection  of  the  great  day  of 
triumph  will  have  no  further  temptations.  In  the  Kingdom 
of  Heaven  the  joining  of  man  and  woman,  even  sanctified  as 
it  is  by  the  permanence  of  marriage,  will  exist  no  more.  Its 
real  end  is  the  creation  of  new  human  beings,  but  in  that  day 
Death  will  be  conquered  and  the  everlasting  renewing  of  the 
generations  will  no  longer  be  necessary.  ‘Tor  when  they  shal 
rise  from  the  dead,  they  neither  marry,  nor  are  given  in  mar¬ 
riage;  but  are  as  the  angels  which  are  in  heaven.” 

With  this  attainment  of  eternal  and  angelic  life — the  twc 
promises  and  the  two  certainties  of  Christ — what  has  seemed 
endurable  will  become  unthinkable,  that  which  seemed  pure 
will  become  vile,  that  which  was  holy  will  become  imperfect. 
In  that  supreme  and  happy  world  all  the  trials  of  the  humac 
race  will  be  over.  A  hasty  mating  with  a  stolen  woman  was 
enough  for  the  primitive  bestial  man.  Man  rose  to  the  highei 
level  of  marriage,  to  union  with  one  woman  alone;  the  saint  rose 
higher  yet,  to  voluntary  chastity.  But  the  man  who  has  be¬ 
come  an  angel  in  Heaven,  who  is  all  spirit  and  love,  will  hav( 
conquered  the  flesh  even  in  memory.  In  a  world  where  there! 
will  be  no  poor,  sick,  unhappy  or  enemies,  his  love  will  be 
transfigured  into  a  superhuman  contemplation. 

The  cycle  of  births  will  then  be  closed.  The  Fourth  King 
dom  will  be  forever  established.  The  citizens  of  the  Kingdon; 
will  be  eternally  the  same,  themselves  and  no  other  through  al 
the  centuries.  Woman  will  no  longer  bring  forth  her  younji 
with  suffering.  The  sentence  of  exile  will  be  revoked,  th(! 
Serpent  will  be  conquered;  the  Father  will  joyfully  welcome ' 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST  213 

his  wandering  son.  Paradise  will  be  found  again  and  will 
never  more  be  lost. 


FATHERS  AND  SONS 

Jesus  was  speaking  in  a  house,  perhaps  at  Capernaum,  and 
men  and  women,  all  hungering  for  life  and  justice,  all  needing 
comfort  and  consolation,  had  filled  the  house,  had  pressed  close 
around  Him,  and  were  looking  at  Him  as  they  would  look 
at  their  Father  returned  to  them,  their  Brother  healing  them, 
their  Benefactor  saving  them.  They  were  so  hungry  for  His 
words,  these  men  and  women,  that  Jesus  and  His  friends  had 
not  stopped  to  take  a  mouthful  of  food.  He  had  spoken  for 
a  long  time,  and  yet  they  would  have  liked  Him  to  go  on 
speaking  till  nightfall,  without  ever  stopping  for  an  instant. 
They  had  been  waiting  for  Him  for  so  long!  Their  fathers 
and  their  mothers  had  waited  for  Him  in  wretchedness  and 
dumb  resignation  for  thousands  of  years.  They  themselves 
had  waited  for  Him,  year  after  year,  in  dull  wretchedness. 
Night  after  night  they  had  longed  for  a  ray  of  light,  a  promise 
of  happiness,  a  loving  word.  And  now  before  them  was  He 
who  was  the  reward  of  their  long  vigil.  Now  they  could  wait 
no  longer.  These  men  and  these  women  crowded  about  Jesus 
like  privileged  and  impatient  creditors  who  finally  have  before 
tthem  the  Divine  Debtor,  for  whom  they  have  been  eternally 
^waiting;  and  they  claimed  their  share  down  to  the  last  penny. 
jHe  certainly  should  be  able  to  get  along  without  eating  bread 
just  this  one  time — for  centuries  and  centuries  their  fathers 
had  been  forced  to  go  without  the  Bread  of  Truth;  for  years 
and  years  they  themselves  had  not  been  able  to  satisfy  their 
[hunger  for  the  Bread  of  Hope. 

Jesus  therefore  went  on  talking  to  the  people  who  had  filled 
the  house.  He  repeated  the  most  touching  figures  of  His  in¬ 
spiration,  told  the  most  persuasive  stories  of  the  Kingdom, 
looked  at  them  with  those  luminous  eyes  which  shone  down 
into  the  soul  as  the  morning  sun  penetrates  the  shut-in  dark¬ 
ness  of  a  house. 

Any  one  of  us  would  give  what  remains  of  his  life  to  be 


214 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


looked  at  by  those  eyes,  to  gaze  for  a  moment  into  those  eyes 
shining  with  infinite  tenderness;  to  listen  for  a  moment  only 
to  that  thrilling  voice,  changing  the  Semitic  vernacular  into 
melodious  music.  Those  men  and  women  who  are  now  dead, 
those  poor  men,  those  poor  women,  those  wretched  people 
who  to-day  are  dust  in  the  air  of  the  desert,  or  clay  under  the 
hoofs  of  the  camels,  those  men  and  those  women  whom  in 
their  lifetime  no  one  envied,  and  whom  we  the  living  are 
forced  to  envy  after  their  remote  and  obscure  death;  those 
men  and  those  women  heard  that  voice,  saw  those  eyes.  i 

But  there  came  a  stir  and  voices  were  heard  at  the  door  of 
the  house:  some  one  wished  to  come  in.  One  of  those  present  ^ 
told  Jesus,  ‘‘Behold,  thy  mother  and  thy  brethren  without  seek  ; 
for  thee.’’  But  Jesus  did  not  stir,  “Who  is  my  mother  or  my 
brethren?”  And  he  looked  round  about  on  them  which  sat  , 
about  him,  and  said,  “Behold  my  mother  and  my  brethren! 
For  whosoever  shall  do  the  will  of  God,  the  same  is  my  brother,  | 
and  my  sister,  and  mother.”  I 

My  family  is  all  here  and  I  have  no  other  family.  The  1 
ties  of  blood  do  not  count  unless  they  are  confirmed  in  the  I 
spirit.  My  father  is  the  Father  who  made  me  like  unto  Him  1 
in  the  perfection  of  righteousness;  my  brothers  are  the  poor  I 
who  weep;  my  sisters  are  the  women  who  have  left  their  loves  I 
for  Love.  He  did  not  mean  with  these  words  to  deny  the  J 
Virgin  of  Sorrows,  of  whose  womb  He  was  the  fruit;  He  meant  I 
to  say  that  from  the  day  of  His  voluntary  exile  He  belonged  il 
no  more  to  the  little  family  of  Nazareth,  but  only  to  His  a 
mission  as  Saviour,  to  the  great  family  of  mankind.  tl 

In  the  new  organization  of  salvation,  spiritual  affiliations  sur-  « 
pass  the  simple  relationships  of  the  flesh.  “If  any  come  to  1 
me,  and  hate  not  his  father,  and  mother,  and  wife,  and  children;  I 
and  brethren,  and  sisters,  yea,  and  his  own  life  also,  he  cannot  ■ 
be  my  disciple.”  Individual  love  must  disappear  in  universal  I 
love.  We  must  choose  between  the  old  affections  of  the  old  I 
mankind  and  the  unique  love  of  the  New  Man.  I 

The  family  will  disappear  when  men,  in  the  celestial  life,® 
shall  be  better  than  men.  In  the  world  as  it  is,  the  family  isj,| 
an  impediment  for  him  who  helps  others  to  rise  to  higher 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


215 


things.  “And  call  no  man  your  father  upon  the  earth:  for  one 
is  your  Father  which  is  in  heaven.”  He  who  leaves  his  family 
shall  be  infinitely  rewarded.  “And  he  said  unto  them,  Verily 
I  say  unto  you,  There  is  no  man  that  hath  left  house,  or 
parents,  or  brethren,  or  wife,  or  children  for  the  kingdom  of 
God^s  sake.  Who  shall  not  receive  manifold  more  in  this  pres¬ 
ent  time,  and  in  the  world  to  come  life  everlasting,” 

Your  Heavenly  Father  will  never  forsake  you,  your  brothers 
in  the  Kingdom  will  never  betray  you;  but  the  fathers  and  the 
brothers  of  earthly  life  might  become  your  assassins.  “And 
ye  shall  be  betrayed  both  by  parents  and  brethren  and  kins¬ 
folks  and  friends;  and  some  of  you  shall  they  cause  to  be 
put  to  death.” 

And  yet  fathers  at  least  should  be  faithful,  because,  accord¬ 
ing  to  Jesus,  fathers  have  more  duties  toward  their  sons  than 
sons  toward  their  fathers.  The  Old  Law  recognizes  only  the 
first.  “Honor  thy  father  and  thy  mother,”  said  Moses.  But 
he  does  not  add,  “Protect  and  love  thy  children.”  Children 
seemed  to  Moses  to  be  the  property  of  those  who  had  begotten 
them.  Life  in  those  times  seemed  so  fair  and  precious  that 
children  were  always  thought  to  be  in  debt  to  their  parents. 
They  were  to  remain  servants  forever,  everlastingly  submis¬ 
sive.  They  should  live  only  for  old  age,  by  the  orders  of  old 
age. 

Here  also  the  divine  genius  of  the  Overthrower  sees  what 
is  lacking  in  the  old  ideals  and  insists  upon  righting  the  bal¬ 
ance.  Fathers  should  give  without  sparing  and  without  rest; 
even  if  the  children  are  ungrateful,  even  if  they  abandon  their 
father,  even  if  they  are  unworthy  in  the  eyes  of  the  platitu¬ 
dinous  sagacity  of  the  world.  The  Paternoster  is  a  prayer  of 
sons  to  a  Father.  It  is  the  prayer  which  every  child  might  ad¬ 
dress  to  his  father.  He  asks  for  daily  bread;  the  remission 
of  sins,  pardon  for  his  failings,  and  daily  protection  against 
evil. 

And  yet  fathers,  even  when  they  give  everything,  are  some¬ 
times  forsaken.  If  their  sons  leave  them  to  throw  themselves 
into  evil  ways,  they  must  be  forgiven  as  soon  as  they  come 
back,  as  the  Prodigal  Son  in  the  parable  was  forgiven.  If  they 


2i6 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


leave  their  fathers  to  seek  out  a  higher  and  more  perfect  life — 
like  those  who  are  converted  to  the  Kingdom — they  will  be 
rewarded  a  thousand  times  in  this  life  and  the  next. 

But  from  every  point  of  view,  fathers  are  debtors.  The 
tremendous  responsibility  which  they  have  accepted  in  giving 
life  to  a  new  human  being  must  be  met.  Like  the  Heavenly 
Father,  they  must  give  to  those  of  their  children  who  ask  and 
to  those  who  keep  silence,  to  the  worthy  and  the  unworthy,  to 
those  who  sit  about  the  family  board  and  to  those  who  are 
wanderers  over  the  earth,  to  the  good  and  to  the  bad,  to  the 
first  and  to  the  last.  They  must  never  become  weary,  not  even 
with  the  children  who  flee  from  them,  with  those  who  offend 
against  them,  with  those  who  deny  them.  : 

‘‘Or  what  man  is  there  of  you,  whom  if  his  son  ask  bread,  i 
will  he  give  him  a  stone?  Or  if  he  ask  a  fish,  will  he  give  him 
a  serpent?”  Who  will  refuse  to  a  son  who  departs  asking  , 
nothing,  the  supreme  gift  of  a  love  which  asks  no  requital? 

LITTLE  CHILDREN 

All  men  are  children  of  the  Son  of  Man,  but  no  one  could  ( 
call  Him  father  in  the  flesh.  Among  the  disappointing  joys  ; 
of  men  perhaps  the  only  joy  which  does  not  disappoint  is  to 
hold  in  one’s  arms  or  on  one’s  knees  a  child  whose  face  is  rosy  it 
with  blood  which  is  also  yours,  who  laughs  at  you  with  the  t 
dawning  splendor  of  his  eyes,  who  stammers  out  your  name,  c 
who  uncovers  the  springs  of  the  lost  tenderness  of  your  child-  ì 
hood;  to  feel  against  your  adult  flesh,  hardened  by  winds  and  \\ 
the  sun,  this  fresh  smooth  young  flesh  where  the  blood  seems  i 
still  to  have  kept  some  of  the  sweetness  of  milk,  flesh  that  cj 
seems  made  of  warm,  living  petals.  To  feel  that  this  flesh  3Ì 
is  yours,  shaped  in  the  flesh  of  your  mate,  nourished  with  the 
milk  of  her  breasts;  to  watch  the  birth  and  slow  flowering  f1 
of  the  soul  in  this  flesh;  to  be  the  sole  father  of  this  unique  >| 
creature,  of  this  flower  opening  in  the  light  of  the  world; 
to  recognize  your  own  aspect  in  his  childish  eyes,  to  hear  youi 
own  voice  through  his  fresh  lips;  to  grow  young  again  througl 
this  child  in  order  to  be  worthy  of  him;  to  be  nearer  to  him; 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


217 


to  make  yourself  younger,  better,  purer;  to  forget  all  the  years 
which  bring  us  silently  nearer  to  death,  to  forget  the  pride 
of  manhood,  the  vanity  of  wisdom,  the  first  wrinkles  on 
the  face,  the  expiations,  the  ignominies  of  life  and  to  become 
a  virgin  again  beside  this  virginity,  calm  beside  this  calmness, 
good  with  a  goodness  never  known  before;  to  be  in  short 
the  father  of  a  child  of  your  own,  this  is  certainly  the  highest 
human  pleasure  given  to  a  man  who  has  a  soul  within  his  clay. 

Jesus,  whom  no  one  called  Father,  was  drawn  to  children  as 
to  sinners.  Lover  of  the  absolute,  He  loved  only  extremes. 
Complete  innocence  and  complete  downfall  were  for  Him 
pledges  of  salvation.  Innocence  because  it  does  not  need  to 
be  cleansed;  abject  degradation  because  it  feels  more  keenly 
the  need  to  be  cleansed.  The  people  in  danger  are  those  mid¬ 
way;  men  half  depraved  and  half  intact;  men  who  are  foul 
within  and  wish  to  seem  upright  and  just;  those  who  have 
lost  with  their  childhood  their  native  purity  and  do  not  yet 
recognize  the  filthiness  of  their  inner  depravity. 

Jesus  loved  children  with  tenderness  and  sinners  with  com¬ 
passion;  the  pure  and  those  who  stood  in  dire  need  of  purifica¬ 
tion.  His  hand  willingly  caressed  the  floating  hair  of  the 
newly  weaned  child  and  did  not  draw  back  from  the  perfumed 
tresses  of  the  prostitute.  He  drew  near  to  sinners  because 
they  often  had  not  the  strength  to  come  to  Him;  but  He  called 
children  to  Him  because  children  know  by  instinct  who  loves 
them,  and  run  willingly  to  him.  Mothers  brought  their  chil¬ 
dren  to  Him  to  have  Him  touch  them.  The  Disciples,  with 
their  habitual  roughness,  cried  out  on  them — and  Jesus  once 
I  more  was  obliged  to  reprove  them,  “Suffer  little  children,  and 
I  forbid  them  not  to  come  unto  me,  for  of  such  is  the  kingdom 
É  of  heaven.”  “Verily  I  say  unto  you.  Whosoever  shall  not  re- 
ceive  the  kingdom  of  God  as  a  little  child,  he  shall  not  enter 
therein.” 

The  Disciples,  bearded  men,  proud  of  their  authority  as 
mature  men  and  as  lieutenants  of  their  future  Lord,  could  not 
understand  why  their  Master  consented  to  waste  time  with 
children  who  could  not  yet  speak  plainly  and  could  not  under¬ 
stand  the  meaning  of  grown  people’s  words.  But  Jesus  set  in 


2i8 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


their  midst  one  of  these  children  and  said:  “Verily  I  say 
unto  you,  Except  ye  be  converted,  and  become  as  little  chil¬ 
dren,  ye  shall  not  enter  into  the  kingdom  of  heaven.  Whoso¬ 
ever  therefore  shall  humble  himself  as  this  little  child,  the 
same  is  greatest  in  the  kingdom  of  heaven.  .  .  .  And  whoso 
shall  receive  one  such  little  child  in  my  name  receiveth  me. 
But  whoso  shall  offend  one  of  these  little  ones  which  believe  in 
me,  it  were  better  for  him  that  a  mill-stone  were  hanged  about 
his  neck,  and  that  he  were  drowned  in  the  depth  of  the  sea.” 

Here,  too,  the  transposition  of  values  is  complete.  In  the  | 
Old  Law,  the  child  was  to  respect  the  grown  man,  to  revere  ' 
and  imitate  the  old  man.  The  little  child  was  to  take  the 
grown  person  as  his  model.  Perfection  was  supposed  to  lie 
in  years  of  maturity,  or,  better  yet,  in  old  age.  The  child  ^ 
was  respected  only  as  containing  the  hope  for  future  manhood. 
Jesus  reversed  these  ideas;  grown  people  were  to  take  their 
example  from  little  children,  elders  were  to  try  to  become  like 
infants,  fathers  were  to  imitate  their  sons.  In  the  world  as  it 
was,  as  it  is,  controlled  by  force,  where  the  only  valued  art  is  j 
the  art  of  acquiring  riches  and  overcoming  others,  children  are 
at  the  most  only  human  larvae.  In  the  New  World  announced 
by  Christ,  which  will  be  governed  by  fearless  purity  and  inno-  i 
cent  love,  children  are  the  arch-types  of  happy  citizens.  The 
child  who  seems  an  imperfect  man  is  thus  more  perfect  than  ; 
the  grown  man.  The  man  who  imagines  that  he  has  come  ■. 
into  the  fullness  of  his  time  and  of  his  soul  is  to  turn  back, 
despoil  himself  of  his  complacent  complexities  and  return  to 
his  first  youth.  From  having  been  imitated  he  becomes  an  * 
imitator,  from  his  position  as  first  he  becomes  last. 

Jesus  reaffirms  His  own  likeness  to  a  child,  and  declares 
with  no  hesitation  that  He  is  identical  with  the  children  who  '  i 
seek  Him  out,  “And  whoso  shall  receive  one  such  little  child  in  i|  I 
my  name  receiveth  me.”  The  saint,  the  poor  man,  the  poet,  i 
present  themselves  under  this  new  form  which  sums  them  all  1 
up:  the  child,  pure  and  candid  as  the  saint,  bare  and  needy  ttl 
as  the  poor  man,  m^arveling  and  loving  like  the  poet.  I 

Jesus  loves  children  not  only  as  unconscious  models  for  those  M 
who  wish  to  attain  the  perfection  of  the  Kingdom,  but  as  the  fl 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


2ig 

actual  mediums  of  truth.  Their  ignorance  is  more  illumined 
than  the  doctrines  of  learned  men;  their  ingenuousness  is  more 
powerful  than  the  intellect  which  shows  itself  in  reasoning 
words.  Only  a  clear  and  untarnished  mirror  can  reflect  the 
images  of  the  revelation. 

thank  thee,  O  Father,  Lord  of  heaven  and  earth,  because 
thou  hast  hid  these  things  from  the  wise  and  prudent,  and  hast 
revealed  them  unto  babes.”  Their  own  wisdom  stands  in  the 
way  of  the  wise,  because  they  think  they  understand  every¬ 
thing.  Their  own  intelligence  is  an  impediment  for  the  in¬ 
telligent,  because  they  are  not  capable  of  understanding  any 
other  light  than  that  of  the  intellect.  Only  the  simple  can 
understand  simplicity,  the  innocent,  innocence,  the  loving,  love. 
The  revelation  of  Jesus,  open  only  to  virginal  souls,  is  all 
humility,  purification  and  love.  But  man,  as  he  grows  older, 
becomes  more  complicated,  more  corrupt,  prouder,  and  learns 
the  horrible  pleasure  of  hatred.  Every  day  he  goes  further 
from  Paradise,  becomes  less  capable  of  finding  it.  He  takes 
pleasure  in  his  steady  downfall  and  glories  in  the  useless  learn¬ 
ing  which  hides  from  him  the  only  needful  truth. 

To  find  the  new  Paradise,  the  Kingdom  of  innocence  and 
love,  it  is  needful  to  become  like  children  who  have  already 
what  others  must  strive  and  struggle  to  regain. 

Jesus  seeks  out  the  company  of  sinners,  of  men  and  women, 
but  He  feels  Himself  with  his  true  brothers  only  when  He  lays 
His  hands  on  the  heads  of  the  children  whom  the  Galilean 
mothers  bring  to  Him  as  an  offering. 

MARTHA  AND  MARY 

Women  also  loved  Jesus.  He  who  had  the  form  and  flesh  of 
a  man,  who  left  His  mother  and  never  had  a  wife,  was  sur¬ 
rounded  all  His  life  and  after  His  death  by  the  w^armth  of 
feminine  tenderness.  The  chaste  wanderer  was  loved  by 
women  as  no  man  was  ever  loved,  or  ever  can  be  loved  again. 
The  chaste  man,  who  condemned  adultery  and  fornication,  had 
over  women  the  inestimable  prestige  of  innocence. 

All  women,  who  are  not  mere  females,  kneel  before  him 


220 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


who  does  not  bow  before  them.  The  husband  witli  all  his 
legal  love  and  authority,  the  satyr  with  all  his  mistresses,  the 
eloquent  adulterer,  the  bold  ravisher,  have  not  so  much  power 
over  the  spirit  of  women  as  he  who  loves  them  without  touch¬ 
ing  them,  he  who  saves  them  without  asking  for  even  a  kiss 
as  reward.  Woman,  slave  of  her  body,  of  her  weakness,  her 
desire  and  of  the  desire  of  the  male,  is  drawn  to  him  who  frees 
her,  to  him  who  cures  her,  to  him  who  loves  her  and  asks  no 
more  from  her  than  a  cup  of  water,  a  smile,  a  little  silent 
attention. 

Women  loved  Jesus.  They  stopped  when  they  saw  Him 
pass,  they  followed  Him  when  they  saw  Him  speaking  to  His 
friends,  they  drew  near  to  the  house  where  He  had  gone  in,  . 
they  brought  their  children  to  Him,  they  blessed  Him  loudly,  ■ 
they  touched  His  garment  to  be  cured  of  their  ills,  they  were 
happy  when  they  could  serve  Him.  All  of  them  might  have  i 
cried  out  to  Him,  like  the  woman  who  raised  her  voice  in  the  i 
midst  of  the  multitude:  “Blessed  is  the  womb  that  bare  ye,  3 
and  the  paps  which  thou  hast  sucked.”  ^ 

Many  followed  Him  to  death.  Salome,  mother  of  the  Sons  ( 
of  Thunder;  Mary,  mother  of  James  the  less;  Martha  and  1 
Mary  of  Bethany. 

They  would  have  liked  to  be  His  sisters.  His  servants.  His  ! 
slaves;  to  serve  Him,  to  set  bread  before  Him,  to  pour  Him  ■ 
wine,  to  wash  His  garments,  to  anoint  His  tired  feet  and  His  J 
flowing  hair.  Some  of  them  were  fortunate  enough  to  be  i 
allowed  to  follow  Him,  and  knew  the  still  greater  good  fortune  i 
of  helping  Him  with  their  money  .  .  .  “and  the  twelve  were  : 
with  him.  And  certain  women,  which  had  been  healed  of  evil  ^ 
spirits  and  infirmities,  Mary,  called  Magdalene,  out  of  whom  i 
went  seven  devils,  And  Joanna,  the  wife  of  Chuza,  Herod’s  i 
steward,  and  Susanna,  and  many  others,  which  ministered  1 
unto  him  of  their  substance.”  Women,  in  whom  piety  is  a  na-  ’ 
tive  gift  of  the  heart  before  it  is  acquired  through  desire  for 
perfection,  were,  as  they  have  always  been,  more  generous  ^ 
than  men. 

When  He  appears  in  the  house  of  Lazarus,  two  women,  the  i 
two  sisters  of  the  man  brought  back  from  death,  seem  dis-  i 


) 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


221 


I 

■| 


I  traded  with  joy.  Martha  rushes  towards  Him  to  see  what  He 
t  needs,  if  He  wishes  to  wash,  if  He  wishes  to  eat  at  once,  and, 
if  bringing  Him  into  the  house,  she  leads  Him  to  the  couch  that 

I  He  may  lie  down,  puts  over  Him  a  blanket  lest  He  be  cold, 
n  and  runs  with  a  pitcher  to  get  fresh  cool  water.  Then,  on 
|i|  her  return,  she  sets  to  work  to  prepare  for  the  pilgrim  a  fine 
f  '  meal,  much  more  abundant  than  the  ordinary  dinner  of  the 
;!  family.  With  all  haste  she  lights  a  great  fire,  goes  to  get 
!i  fresh  fish,  new-laid  eggs,  figs  and  olives;  she  borrows  from 

one  neighbor  a  piece  of  new-killed  lamb,  from  another  a  costly 
^  perfume,  from  another  richer  than  she,  a  flowered  dish.  She 
i  pulls  out  from  the  linen-chest  the  newest  table-cloth,  and  brings 
up  from  the  wine-cellar  the  oldest  wine.  And  while  the  wood 
snaps  and  sparkles  in  the  fire  and  the  water  in  the  kettle 

I I  begins  to  simmer,  poor  Martha,  bustling,  flushed,  hurrying,  sets 
'  the  table,  runs  between  the  kneading-trough  and  the  fire, 
'  ■  glances  at  the  waiting  Master,  at  the  street  to  see  if  her  brother 

is  coming  home,  and  at  her  sister,  who  is  doing  nothing  at  all. 
i  For  when  Jesus  passed  the  sill  of  their  house,  Mary  fell 
f|  into  a  sort  of  motionless  ecstasy  from  which  nothing  could 
arouse  her.  She  sees  only  Jesus,  hears  nothing  but  Jesus’  voice, 
lij  There  is  nothing  else  in  the  world  for  her  at  that  moment, 
i  She  cannot  have  enough  of  looking  at  Him,  of  listening  to 
I  Him,  of  feeling  Him  there,  living,  close  to  her.  If  He  glances 
at  her,  she  is  happy  to  be  looked  at;  if  He  does  not  look  at 
;5  her,  she  fixes  her  eyes  on  Him;  if  He  speaks.  His  words  drop 
one  by  one  into  her  heart,  there  to  remain  to  her  death;  if 
■  !  He  is  silent,  she  draws  from  His  silence  a  more  direct  revela- 

J,  tion.  And  she  is  almost  troubled  by  the  bustling  and  stepping 

1  ? 

ti  about  of  her  sister.  Why  should  Martha  think  that  Jesus 
!  needs  an  elaborate  dinner?  Mary  is  seated  at  His  feet  and 
I  does  not  move  even  if  Martha  or  Lazarus  call  her.  She  is  at 
i|  the  service  of  Jesus,  but  in  another  way.  She  has  given  Him 
.JÌ  her  soul,  only  her  soul,  but  such  a  loving  soul  !  And  the  work 
^  of  her  hands  would  be  inopportune  and  superfluous.  She  is  a 
I  contemplative  soul,  an  adorer.  She  will  take  action  only  to 
!  cover  the  dead  body  of  her  God  with  perfumes.  She  would 
move  quickly  enough  if  He  should  ask  of  her  all  her  life-blood. 


Il 


222 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


But  the  rest,  all  this  business  of  Martha,  is  only  material  ac¬ 
tivity  which  is  no  concern  of  hers. 

Women  loved  Him  and  He  requited  this  love  with  compas¬ 
sion.  No  woman  who  turned  to  Him  was  sent  away  discon¬ 
solate.  The  sorrow  of  the  widow  of  Nain  made  Him  sorrow, 
so  that  He  brought  to  life  her  dead  son;  the  prayers  of  the 
Canaanite  woman,  although  she  was  a  foreigner  to  Him, 
wrought  on  Him  to  cure  her  daughter;  the  unknown  woman  j 
which  had  a  ^‘spirit  of  infirmity’’  eighteen  years,  and  was 
bowed  together  and  could  in  no  wise  lift  herself,  was  cured, 
although  it  was  on  the  Sabbath  day  and  the  rulers  of  the  syna¬ 
gogue  cried,  ‘^Sacrilege!”  In  the  first  part  of  His  wanderings 
He  cured  Peter’s  wife’s  mother  of  fever  and  the  Magdalene  of  , 
evil  spirits.  He  brought  to  life  the  daughter  of  Jairus,  and  1 
cured  that  unknown  woman  who  had  suffered  for  twelve  years  | 
from  a  bloody  flux.  J 

The  learned  men  of  His  time  had  no  esteem  for  women  " 
in  spiritual  matters.  They  tolerated  their  presence  at  the  \ 
sacred  festivals,  but  they  never  would  have  thought  of  teach-  - 
ing  high  and  secret  doctrines  to  any  woman.  ‘‘The  words 
of  the  Law,”  says  a  rabbinical  proverb  of  that  time,  “rather 
than  teach  them  to  a  woman,  burn  them  up!”  Jesus  on  the 
other  hand  did  not  hesitate  to  speak  to  them  of  the  highest  i 
mysteries.  When  He  went  alone  to  the  well  of  Sichar,  and  the 
Samaritan  woman  who  had  had  five  husbands  came  there.  He 
did  not  hesitate  to  proclaim  His  message  to  her,  although  she 
was  a  woman  and  an  enemy  of  His  people.  “But  the  hour 
cometh,  and  now  is,  when  the  true  worshipers  shall  worship 
the  Father  in  spirit  and  in  truth:  for  the  Father  seeketh  such 
to  worship  him.  God  is  a  spirit:  and  they  that  worship  him 
must  worship  him  in  spirit  and  in  truth.”  His  Disciples  came 
up,  and  could  not  understand  what  the  Master  was  doing. 
“And  marvelled  that  he  talked  with  the  woman.”  They  did 
not  yet  know  that  the  Church  of  Christ  would  make  a  woman 
the  link  between  the  sons  and  the  Son — the  woman  who 
unites  in  herself  the  two  supreme  possibilities  of  Woman:  the 
Virgin  Mother  who  suffered  for  us  from  the  night  in  Bethlehem 
until  the  night  of  Golgotha. 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


223 


WORDS  WRITTEN  ON  THE  SAND 

On  another  occasion  at  Jerusalem,  Jesus  found  Himself  be¬ 
fore  a  woman — the  Adulteress.  A  hooting  crowd  pushed  her 
forward.  The  woman,  hiding  her  face  with  her  hands  and 
with  her  hair,  stood  before  Him,  without  speaking.  Jesus 
had  taught  that  wife  and  husband  should  be  perfectly  one, 
and  He  detested  adultery.  But  He  detested  still  more  the 
cowardice  of  tale-bearers,  the  hounding  by  the  merciless,  the 
impudence  of  sinners  presuming  to  set  themselves  up  as  judges 
of  sin.  Jesus  could  not  absolve  the  woman  who  had  brutally 
disobeyed  the  law  of  God,  but  He  did  not  wish  to  condemn 
her,  because  her  accusers  had  no  right  to  be  seeking  her  death. 
And  He  stooped  down  and  with  His  finger  wrote  upon  the 
ground.  It  is  the  first  and  last  time  that  we  see  Jesus  lower 
Himself  to  this  trivial  operation.  No  one  has  ever  known  what 
He  wrote  at  that  moment,  standing  there  before  the  woman 
trembling  in  her  shame,  like  a  deer  set  upon  by  a  pack  of 
snarling  hounds.  He  chose  the  sand  on  which  to  write  ex¬ 
pressly  that  the  wind  might  carry  away  the  words,  which  would 
perhaps  frighten  men  if  they  could  read  them.  But  the  shame¬ 
less  persecutors  insisted  that  the  woman  should  be  stoned. 
Then  Jesus  lifted  Himself  up,  looked  deep  into  their  eyes  and 
souls,  one  by  one:  ‘‘He  that  is  without  sin  among  you,  let 
him  first  cast  a  stone  at  her.” 

We  are  all  of  us  guilty  of  the  faults  of  our  brothers.  From 
the  first  to  the  last  we  are  all  daily  accomplices,  although  too 
often  unpunished.  The  Adulteress  would  not  have  betrayed 
her  husband  if  men  had  not  tempted  her,  if  her  husband  had 
made  himself  better  loved;  the  thief  would  not  rob  if  the 
rich  man’s  heart  were  not  so  hard;  the  assassin  would  not  kill 
if  he  had  not  been  harshly  treated;  there  would  be  no  pros¬ 
titutes  if  men  knew  how  to  mortify  their  wantonness.  Only 
the  innocents  would  have  the  right  to  judge;  but  on  this  earth 
there  are  no  innocents,  and  even  if  there  were,  their  mercy 
would  be  stronger  than  justice  itself. 

Such  thoughts  had  never  occurred  to  those  angry  spies,  but 
Christ’s  words  troubled  them.  Every  one  of  them  thought 


224 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


of  his  own  betraj^als,  his  own  secret  and  perhaps  recent  sins 
of  the  flesh.  Every  soul  there  was  like  a  sewer  which  when 
the  stone  is  raised  exhales  a  fetid  gust  of  nauseous  vapor.  The 
old  men  were  the  first  to  go.  Then,  little  by  little,  all  tie  others, 
avoiding  each  other’s  eyes,  scattered  and  dispersed.  The  open 
place  was  empty.  Jesus  had  again  stooped  down  to  write  upon 
the  ground.  The  woman  had  heard  the  shuffling  of  the  depart¬ 
ing  feet,  and  heard  no  longer  any  voice  crying  for  her  death, 
but  she  did  not  dare  to  raise  her  eyes  because  she  knew  that 
One  alone  had  remained,  the  Innocent, — the  only  one  who  had 
the  right  to  throw  against  her  the  deadly  stones.  Jesus  for 
the  second  time  lifted  Himself  up  and  saw  no  one. 

‘‘Woman,  where  are  those  thine  accusers?  hath  no  man 
condemned  thee?” 

“No  man,  Lord.” 

“Neither  do  I  condemn  thee:  go  and  sin  no  more.” 

And  for  the  first  time  the  Adulteress  dared  to  look  in  the 
face  of  her  liberator.  She  did  not  understand  His  words. 
What  she  had  done  was  evidently  a  sin  in  His  eyes  because  he 
commanded  her  to  “sin  no  more”;  and  yet  he  had  so  acted  that 
the  others  did  not  condemn  her.  And  now  He  also  did  not 
wish  to  condemn  her.  What  man  was  this  so  different  from 
all  the  others,  who  hated  sin  but  forgave  the  sinner?  She 
would  have  wished  to  turn  to  Him  with  a  question,  to  murmur 
a  word  of  thanks,  to  reward  Him  at  least  with  a  smile,  because 
her  soul  was  weak  and  her  lips  beautiful.  But  Jesus  had 
begun  again  to  write  on  the  ground  of  the  court.  His  head 
lowered,  and  she  saw  only  the  silky  waves  of  His  hair  shining 
in  the  sun,  and  His  finger  moving  slowly  over  the  sunlit  earth. 

THE  SINNER 

But  no  woman  loved  Him  so  much  as  the  woman  who 
anointed  Him  with  nard  and  bathed  Him  with  her  tears  in 
the  house  of  Simon  the  Pharisee.  Every  one  of  us  has  seen 
that  picture  in  imagination;  the  weeping  woman  with  her  hair 
falling  over  the  feet  of  the  Wanderer;  and  yet  the  true  mean¬ 
ing  of  the  episode  is  understood  by  very  few,  so  greatly  has  it 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


^25 


been  disfigured  by  both  the  ordinary  and  the  literary  interpre¬ 
tations.  The  decadents  of  the  last  century,  careful  workmen 
I  in  lascivious  preciosity,  who  swarm  to  the  scent  of  corruption 
I  like  flies  to  filth  and  crows  to  carrion,  have  sought  out  in  the 
*  Gospel  those  women  who  are  redolent  of  sin.  And  they  have 
!  made  such  women  their  own,  adorning  them  with  the  velvet  of 
I  adjectives,  the  silk  of  verbs,  the  jewelry  and  precious  stones  of 
metaphors;  the  unknown  repentant  woman,  named  Mary  Mag- 
I  dalene,  the  unknown  adulteress  of  Jerusalem,  Salome  the 
I  dancer,  the  sinister  Herodias. 

The  episode  of  this  anointing  has  been  profoundly  misrep- 
i-  resented  by  such  writers.  It  is  simpler  and  infinitely  more 
i  profound.  The  praise  of  Jesus  for  the  woman  who  brought 
Him  nard  is  not  praise  of  carnal  sin,  or  of  common  love 
I  as  it  is  commonly  understood  by  men. 

This  sinning  woman  who  silently  entered  the  house  of  Simon 
I  with  her  box  of  alabaster  was  no  longer  a  sinner.  She  had 
seen  Jesus,  had  known  Him  before  that  day.  And  she  was 
ino  longer  a  woman  for  hire;  she  had  heard  Jesus  speak,  and 
I  was  no  longer  the  public  woman,  flesh  on  sale  for  masculine 
desires.  She  had  heard  the  voice  of  Jesus,  had  listened  to 
I  His  words;  His  voice  had  troubled  her,  His  words  had  shaken 
ijher.  The  woman  who  had  belonged  to  every  one  had  learned 
that  there  is  a  love  more  beautiful  than  lust,  a  poverty  richer 
I  than  clinking  coins.  When  she  came  to  the  house  of  Simon 
she  was  not  the  woman  she  had  been,  the  woman  whom  the 
men  of  the  countryside  had  pointed  out  sneeringly,  the  woman 
I  whom  the  Pharisee  knew  and  despised.  Her  soul  was  changed, 
iall  her  life  was  changed.  Now  her  flesh  was  chaste;  her  hand 
5 was  pure;  her  lips  no  longer  knew  the  bitter  taste  of  rouge, 
|her  eyes  had  learned  to  weep.  From  now  on,  according  to  the 
Ipromise  of  the  King,  she  was  ready  to  enter  into  the  Kingdom. 
I  Without  taking  all  this  for  granted  it  is  impossible  to 
^understand  the  story  which  follows.  The  sinning  woman 
Ejiwished  to  reward  her  Saviour  with  a  token  of  her  gratitude. 

I  yShe  took  one  of  the  most  costly  things  left  to  her,  a  sealed  box 
i-:]full  of  nard,  perhaps  the  gift  of  a  chance  lover,  thinking  to 
i  [anoint  her  King’s  head  with  this  costly  oil.  Hers  was  an  act 


226 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


of  public  gratitude.  The  sinning  woman  wished  publicly  to 
thank  Him  who  had  cleansed  her  soul,  who  had  brought  her 
heart  to  life,  who  had  lifted  her  up  out  of  shame,  who  had 
given  her  a  hope  m.ore  glorious  than  all  joys. 

She  went  into  the  house  with  her  box  of  alabaster  clasped 
to  her  breast,  timid  and  shrinking  as  a  little  girl  on  her  first 
day  of  school,  as  a  released  prisoner  in  his  first  moment  out¬ 
side  the  prison.  She  went  in  silently  with  her  little  box  of 
perfume,  raising  her  eyes  for  only  a  moment  to  see  at  a  glance 
where  Jesus  was  reclining.  She  went  up  to  the  couch,  her 
knees  trembling  under  her,  her  hands  shaking,  her  delicate 
eyelids  quivering,  because  she  felt  they  were  all  looking  at 
her,  all  those  men’s  eyes  were  fixed  on  her,  staring  at  her 
beautiful  swaying  body,  wondering  what  she  was  about  to  do. 

She  broke  the  seal  of  the  little  alabaster  flask,  and  poured 
half  the  oil  on  the  head  of  Jesus.  The  large  drops  shone  on 
His  hair  like  scattered  gems.  With  loving  hands  she  spread 
the  transparent  ointment  on  the  curls  and  did  not  stay  her 
hand  till  every  hair  was  softened,  silky  and  shining.  The  whole 
room  was  filled  with  the  fragrance;  every  eye  was  fixed  on 
her  with  astonishment. 

The  woman,  still  silent,  took  up  the  opened  box  and  knelt 
by  the  feet  of  the  Peace-bringer.  She  poured  the  remaining 
oil  into  her  hand  and  gently,  gently  rubbed  the  right  foot  and 
the  left  with  the  loving  care  of  a  young  mother  who  bathes 
her  first  child,  for  the  first  time.  Then  she  could  control 
herself  no  longer,  she  could  restrain  no  longer  the  great  burst 
of  tenderness  which  filled  her  heart,  made  her  throat  ache 
and  brought  tears  to  her  eyes.  She  would  have  liked  to  speak, 
to  say  that  this  was  her  thanks,  her  simple,  pure,  heartfelt 
thanks  for  the  great  help  she  had  received,  for  the  new  light 
which  had  unsealed  her  eyes.  But  in  such  a  moment,  withn 
all  those  men  there,  how  could  she  find  the  right  words, 
words  worthy  of  the  wonderful  grace,  worthy  of  Him?  And 
besides,  her  lips  trembled  so  that  she  could  not  pronounce  two 
words  together  ;  her  speech  would  have  been  only  a  stammering 
broken  by  sobs.  Then  not  being  able  to  speak  with  her  lips,  : 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


227 


she  spoke  with  her  eyes:  her  tears  fell  down  one  by  one,  swift 
and  hot  on  the  feet  of  Jesus,  like  so  many  silent  thank-offerings. 

Weeping  freed  her  heart  of  its  oppression;  the  tears  relaxed 
the  tension.  She  saw  and  felt  nothing  now  but  an  inexpressible 
delight  which  she  had  never  knovm  on  her  mother’s  knees 
or  in  men’s  arms;  it  ran  through  all  her  blood,  made  her 
I  tremble,  pierced  her  with  its  poignant  joy,  shook  all  her  be¬ 
ing  in  that  supreme  ecstasy  in  which  joy  is  a  pain  and  sorrow 
I  a  joy,  in  which  pain  and  joy  become  one  mighty  emotion. 

I  She  wept  over  her  past  life,  the  miserable  life  of  her  vigil. 
She  thought  of  her  poor  flesh  sullied  by  men.  She  had  been 
!  forced  to  have  a  smile  for  them  all,  she  had  been  forced  to 
offer  her  luxurious  bed  and  her  perfumed  body  to  them  all. 
With  all  of  them  she  had  been  forced  to  pretend  a  pleasure 
she  did  not  feel.  She  had  been  forced  to  show  a  smiling  face 
I  to  those  whom  she  despised,  to  those  whom  she  hated.  She 
had  slept  beside  the  thief  who  had  stolen  the  money  to  pay  her. 
IShe  had  kissed  the  lips  of  the  murderer  and  of  the  fugitive 
Ifrom  justice;  she  had  been  forced  to  endure  the  acrid  breath 
land  the  repellent  fancies  of  the  drunkard. 

Never,  on  a  kindly  summer  night  when  the  eastern  sky 
lis  all  a  flashing  splendor,  had  she  known  the  welcoming  kiss  of 
|a  husband  who  had  chosen  her,  virgin  among  virgins,  that  she 
nshould  be  one  with  him  till  death.  She  was  outside  the  com- 
Ipunity  and  the  laws.  She  was  cut  off  from  her  people.  She 
|was  separated  from  them  all.  Women  envied  her  and  de- 
||tested  her;  men  desired  her  and  defamed  her. 

I  THE  SECOND  BAPTISM 

|1  But  at  the  same  time  the  tears  of  the  weeping  woman  were 
l  ;ears  of  joy  and  exaltation.  She  was  weeping  not  only  because 
l^f  her  shame,  now  forever  canceled,  but  because  of  the  poigni 
lint  sweetness  of  her  life  beginning  anew. 

I  She  was  weeping  for  her  virginity  restored,  for  her  soui 
■  •escued  from  evil,  her  purity  miraculously  recovered,  her  con- 
liemnation  forever  revoked.  Her  tears  were  the  tears  of  joy 


228 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


at  the  second  birth,  of  exultation  for  truth  discovered,  of  j 
light-heartedness  for  her  sudden  conversion,  for  the  saving  of 
her  soul,  for  the  miraculous  hope  which  had  released  her  from 
the  degradation  of  the  material  and  raised  her  to  the  illumi¬ 
nation  of  the  spirit.  The  drops  of  nard  and  her  tears  were 
so  many  thank-offerings  for  this  incredible  blessing. 

And  yet  it  was  not  alone  for  her  own  sorrow  and  her  own 
joy  that  she  wept.  The  tears  which  bathed  the  feet  of  Jesus  I 
were  also  shed  for  Him.  * 

The  unknown  woman  had  anointed  her  King  like  a  king  ; 
of  olden  times.  She  had  anointed  His  head  as  the  high  priests  i 
had  anointed  the  kings  of  Judea;  she  had  anointed  His  feet  j 
as  the  lords  and  guests  anointed  themselves  on  festal  days.  * 
But  at  the  same  time  the  weeping  woman  had  prepared  Him  1 
for  death  and  burial.  | 

Jesus,  about  to  enter  Jerusalem,  knew  that  those  were  the  i 
last  days  of  His  life  in  the  flesh.  He  said  to  His  disciples,  < 
‘Tor  in  that  she  hath  poured  this  ointment  on  my  body,  she  ; 
did  it  for  my  burial.’’  Still  living.  He  was  embalmed  by  a 
woman’s  compassion. 

Christ  was  to  receive  before  His  death  a  third  baptism,  i 
the  baptism  of  infamy,  the  baptism  of  the  supreme  insult;  , 
praetorian  soldiers  were  to  spit  upon  his  face.  But  He  had  i 
now  received  the  baptism  of  glory  and  the  baptism  of  death,  j 
He  was  anointed  like  a  king  about  to  triumph  in  His  celestial 
kingdom.  He  was  perfumed  like  a  corpse  about  to  be  laid  - 
in  the  tomb.  This  anointing  unites  the  twin  mysteries  of 
His  Messiahship  and  of  the  crucifixion. 

The  poor  sinning  woman,  mysteriously  chosen  for  this  pro-- 
phetic  rite,  had  perhaps  a  confused  presentiment  of  the  appall¬ 
ing  meaning  of  this  premonitory  embalming.  Love’s  second- 
sight,  stronger  in  women  than  in  men,  the  foresight  of  exalted  ; 
and  deep  emotion,  may  have  made  her  feel  that  this  body  [I 
perfumed  and  caressed  by  her  was  in  a  few  days  to  be  an; 
icy,  blood-stained  corpse.  Other  women,  perhaps  she  herself  J I 
were  to  go  to  the  tomb  to  cover  Him  for  the  last  time  with]* 
aromatics,  but  they  would  not  find  Him.  He  who  was  nowJ 
feasting  with  His  friends  was  at  that  time  to  be  at  the  doorsi  I 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


229 


of  another  Hell.  Feeling  this  presentiment,  the  weeping 
woman  let  her  tears  fall  on  Jesus’  feet  to  the  astonishment 
of  all  the  others,  who  did  not  know  and  did  not  understand. 

Now  the  feet  of  the  Saviour,  the  feet  of  the  condemned  one, 
are  all  bathed  with  tears,  the  salt  of  the  tears  mingling  with 
the  perfume  of  the  nard.  The  poor  sinning  woman  does  not 
know  how  to  dry  those  feet,  wet  by  her  tears.  She  has  no 
white  cloth  with  her,  and  her  garment  does  not  seem  to  her 
worthy  to  touch  her  Lord’s  flesh.  Then  she  thinks  of  her 
hair,  her  long  hair  which  has  been  so  much  admired  for  its  fine 
silkiness.  She  loosens  the  braids,  slips  out  the  pins,  un- 
I  clasps  the  fastenings.  The  blue-black  mass  of  her  tresses  falls 
over  her  face,  hiding  her  flushed  face  and  her  compassion. 
lAnd  taking  up  the  masses  of  these  flowing  curls  in  her  hands, 
'she  slowly  dries  the  feet  which  have  brought  her  King  into  that 
house. 

Now  her  tears  are  ended.  All  her  tears  are  shed  and  dried. 
Her  part  is  done,  but  only  Jesus  has  understood  her  silence. 


SHE  LOVED  MUCH 


Among  the  men  who  were  present  at  this  dinner  there  was 
no  one  except  Jesus  who  understood  the  loving  service  of  the 

1  nameless  woman.  But  all,  struck  with  wonder,  were  silent. 
They  did  not  understand,  but  they  respected  obscurely  the 
solemnity  of  the  enigmatic  ceremony.  All  except  two,  who 
wished  to  interpret  the  woman’s  action  as  an  offense  to  the 
guest.  These  two  were  the  Pharisee  and  Judas  Iscariot.  The 
first  said  nothing,  but  his  expression  spoke  more  clearly  than 
words.  The  second,  the  Traitor,  presuming  on  his  familiarity 
Iwith  the  Master,  ventured  to  speak. 

Simon  thought  to  himself,  ‘^This  man,  if  he  were  a  prophet, 
would  have  known  who  and  what  manner  of  woman  this  is 
that  toucheth  Him,  for  she  is  a  sinner.”  The  old  hypocrite 
ihad  for  the  paid  woman  the  scorn  of  those  who  have  had 
imuch  to  do  with  them,  or  of  those  who  have  never  known  them 
at  all.  Like  his  brothers  he  belonged  to  the  endless  cemetery 
of  white  sepulchers,  which  within  are  full  of  foulness.  It  is 


230 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


enough  for  such  men  to  avoid  physical  contact  with  what  they 
think  is  impure^  even  if  their  souls  are  sinks  of  iniquity.  Their 
morals  are  systems  of  ablutions  and  washings;  they  would 
leave  a  wounded  man  to  die,  abandoned  on  the  road,  for 
fear  of  staining  themselves  with  blood;  tliey  would  let  a  poor 
man  suffer  hunger  to  avoid  touching  money  on  the  Sabbath 
day:  like  all  men  they  commit  thefts,  adulteries,  and  murders, 
but  they  wash  their  hands  so  many  times  a  day  that  they 
imagine  them  as  clean  as  those  of  babes. 

He  had  read  the  Law,  and  there  were  still  ringing  in  his 
ears  the  execrations  and  anathemas  of  Old  Israel  against  pros¬ 
titutes.  “There  shall  be  no  whore  of  the  daughters  of  Israel.  ; 

.  .  .  Thou  shalt  not  bring  the  hire  of  a  whore,  or  the  price  of  • 
a  dog,  into  the  house  of  the  Lord  thy  God  for  any  vow:  for 
even  both  these  are  abomination  to  the  Lord  thy  God.”  And 
Simon,  the  wise  burgher,  remembered  with  equal  satisfaction 
the  admonition  of  the  author  of  the  Proverbs:  “For  a  whore  is  , 
a  deep  ditch;  and  a  strange  woman  is  a  narrow  pit.  ...  For 
by  means  of  a  whorish  woman  a  man  is  brought  to  a  piece  of 
bread.”  The  old  Jew  would  perhaps  not  have  felt  so  bitterly 
about  prostitutes,  if  they  cost  nothing!  But  they  are  capable, 
those  shameless  women,  of  eating  up  a  patrimony!  The  old 
proprietor  could  not  be  reconciled  to  one  of  those  dangerous  i 
women  in  his  house,  to  the  fact  that  she  had  touched  his  | 
guest.  He  knew  that  the  prostitute  Rehab  had  made  victory  i 
possible  for  Joshua  and  that  she  was  the  only  one  to  escape  m 
from  the  massacre  of  Jericho,  but  he  remembered  that  the  in-  I 
vincible  Samson,  terror  of  the  Philistines,  had  been  betrayed  fl; 
by  a  worthless  v/oman.  The  Pharisee  could  not  understand  ’  i 
how  a  man  acclaimed  by  the  people  as  a  prophet  should  not  : 
have  understood  what  sort  of  woman  had  come  to  bestow  on  | 
Him  this  discreditable  honor;  but  Jesus  had  read  in  the  heart  if 
of  the  sinning  woman  and  in  the  heart  of  Simon,  and  answered 
with  the  parable  of  the  two  debtors.  “There  was  a  certain  “i 
creditor  which  had  two  debtors:  the  one  owed  five  hundred  : 
pence  and  the  other  fifty.  And  when  they  had  nothing  to  pay,  ; 
he  frankly  forgave  them  both.  Tell  me  therefore,  which  of 
them  vdll  love  him  most?  Simon  answered  and  said,  I  sup-  i 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


231 

>)ose  that  he,  to  whom  he  forgave  most.  And  he  said  unto 
dm,  Thou  hast  rightly  judged.’’ 

I  And  he  turned  to  the  woman,  and  said  unto  Simon:  ‘‘Seest 
;hou  this  woman?  I  entered  into  thine  house,  thou  gavest 
ne  no  water  for  my  feet:  but  she  hath  washed  my  feet  with 
‘  ears,  and  wiped  them  with  the  hairs  of  her  head. 

“Thou  gavest  me  no  kiss:  but  this  woman  since  the  time  I 
I  :ame  in  hath  not  ceased  to  kiss  my  feet. 

“My  head  with  oil  thou  didst  not  anoint:  but  this  woman 
lath  anointed  my  feet  with  ointment. 

“^\Tierefore  I  say  unto  thee.  Her  sins,  which  are  many,  are 
orgiven;  for  she  loved  much;  but  to  whom  little  is  forgiven, 
he  same  loveth  little. 

f  “And  he  said  unto  her.  Thy  sins  are  forgiven.  .  .  .  Thy 
r’aith  hath  saved  thee;  go  in  peace.” 

Ì  The  parable  and  the  comment  of  Jesus  show  how  great, 
j  wen  to-day,  is  the  lack  of  understanding  of  this  episode, 
livery  one  or  nearly  every  one  remembers  only  those  words: 
^ffler  sins  are  forgiven,  for  she  loved  much.”  An  attentive 
i  *eading  of  the  text  shows  that  this  ordinary  interpreta¬ 
tion  is  the  opposite  of  the  truth.  It  is  thought  that  Jesus 
?  'orgave  her  sins  because  she  had  loved  many  men,  or  because 
>he  had  shown  her  love  for  Him  with  her  perfume  and  her 
dsses.  The  parable  of  the  two  debtors  makes  it  clear  that 
he  meaning  of  Jesus’  words,  badly  quoted  and  even  more 
!  completely  misunderstood,  is  entirely  the  contrary.  The  woman 
lad  sinned  greatly  and  because  of  her  repentance  she  was 
wholly  pardoned  ;  and  because  her  pardon  was  great  she  greatly 
;Uved  Him  v/ho  had  saved  her,  who  had  forgiven  her;  the 
*iard  and  her  tears  and  her  kisses  were  the  expression  of  that 
grateful  love.  If  before  going  into  the  house  that  evening  the 
linning  woman  had  not  already  become  transformed  by  virtue 
^)f  her  pardon,  she  would  not  have  obtained  from  Jesus  for- 
fgiveness  for  her  past  life  spent  in  evil,  not  by  using  all  the 
^perfumes  of  India  and  Egypt  nor  by  all  the  kisses  of  her  lips, 
f|tior  by  all  the  tears  of  her  eyes.  Christ’s  forgiveness 
!  vas  not  the  reward  for  those  acts  of  homage;  those  acts  were 
pier  thank-offerings  for  her  forgiveness  already  received;  and 


i' 


232 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


they  were  great  because  her  forgiveness  was  great,  as  her  for 
giveness  had  been  great  because  great  had  been  her  sin. 

Jesus  would  not  have  repelled  the  sinning  woman  even  il 
she  had  still  been  a  sinner,  but  if  He  had  not  been  sure  ol 
her  conversion  He  would  not  perhaps  have  accepted  those 
tokens  of  love;  from  now  on  even  the  most  rigorous  Phari 
saical  precepts  permitted  Him  to  speak  with  her:  ‘Thy  fait! 
hath  saved  thee;  go  in  peace.’’ 

Simon  could  think  of  no  answer;  but  from  the  side  of  the 
disciples  a  rough,  angry  voice  was  raised,  well  known  to  Jesus 
It  was  the  voice  of  Judas:  “Why  was  this  waste  of  the  oint¬ 
ment  made,  why  Vv^as  not  this  ointment  sold  for  three  hundred 
pence  and  given  to  the  poor?”  And  the  other  disciples,  sc 
the  Evangelists  say,  approved  the  words  of  Judas,  and  mur¬ 
mured  against  the  woman.  Judas  was  the  man  who  held  the 
purse;  the  basest  of  them  all  had  chosen  the  basest  element 
— money. 

Money  was  pleasing  to  Judas,  pleasing  in  itself  and  pleasing 
in  its  possibility  of  power.  He  spoke  of  the  poor,  but  he  did  ^ 
not  think  of  the  poor,  to  whom  Jesus  had  distributed  bread 
in  the  country-solitudes,  as  well  as  to  his  own  companions, 
too  poor  as  yet  to  conquer  Jerusalem  and  to  found  the  empire 
of  the  Messiah  where  Judas  hoped  to  be  one  of  the  masters. 
And  he  was  envious  as  well  as  grasping;  envious  as  all  misers 
are.  That  silent  anointing  v/hich  was  the  consecration  of  the 
King  and  the  Messiah,  those  honors  offered  by  a  beautiful! 
woman  to  his  Leader,  made  him  suffer;  the  everlasting  jealousy 
of  man  against  man,  when  a  woman  is  concerned,  was  mingled 
with  the  disappointment  of  his  cupidity. 

But  Jesus  answered  the  words  of  Judas  as  He  answered 
the  silence  of  Simon.  He  did  not  affront  those  who  had! 
affronted  Him,  but  he  defended  the  woman  at  His  feet.  And 
Jesus  said,  “Let  her  alone;  why  trouble  ye  her?  she  hath 
wrought  a  good  work  on  me.  For  ye  have  the  poor  with  you 
always,  and  whensoever  ye  will  ye  may  do  them  good:  but  me 
ye  have  not  always.  She  hath  done  what  she  could:  she  is 
come  aforehand  to  anoint  my  body  to  the  bur5dng.  Verily 
I  say  unto  you.  Wheresoever  this  gospel  shall  be  preached 


1 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


233 


hroughout  the  whole  world,  this  also  that  she  hath  done  shall 
le  spoken  of  for  a  memorial  of  her.” 

The  inexpressible  sadness  of  this  prophecy  escaped  perhaps 
hose  who  sat  about  Him.  They  could  not  be  persuaded  that 
esus,  in  order  to  overcome,  should  be  overcome:  that  in  order 
0  triumph  eternally  He  must  die.  But  Jesus  felt  the  day 
(rawing  near,  ‘‘But  me  ye  have  not  always,  she  is  come  to 
noint  my  body  to  the  burying.”  The  woman  listened  in  ter- 
or  to  this  confirmation  of  her  presentiment  and  another  burst 
f  tears  rained  down  from  her  eyes.  Then  with  her  face  hidden 
a  her  loosened  hair,  she  went  away  as  silently  as  she  had  come. 

The  disciples  were  silent,  not  convinced,  but  abashed.  To 
iide  his  chagrin  Simon  filled  the  guest’s  cup  with  better  wine, 
lut  in  the  yellow  light  of  the  lamps  the  silent  table  seemed  a 
)anquet  of  ghosts  among  whom  had  passed  the  shadow  of 
leath. 

“who  am  I?” 

I 

i 

!  And  yet  the  disciples  knew.  Those  words  of  death  were 
lot  the  first  they  had  heard  from  Jesus’  lips.  They  should 
iave  remembered  that  day,  not  long  before,  when  on  a  soli- 
lary  road  near  Caesarea,  Jesus  had  asked  what  people  said  of 
dim.  They  should  have  remembered  the  answer  which  flashed 
iut  like  sudden  flame,  the  impetuous  outcry  of  belief  from 
Peter’s  heart;  and  the  splendor  which  had  shone  on  three  of 
Ihem  on  the  summit  of  the  mountain  ;  and  the  exact  prophecies 
if  Christ  as  to  the  manner  of  His  death. 

They  had  heard  and  they  had  seen,  and  still  they  hoped 
m, — all  but  one.  The  truth  shone  out  in  them  at  moments 
ike  lightning-flashes  in  the  dark.  Then  the  night  fell  blacker 
'han  ever.  The  new  man  in  their  hearts  who  recognized  Jesus 
IS  the  Christ,  the  man  born  for  the  second  time,  the  Chris¬ 
tian,  disappeared  to  give  way  to  the  Jew,  deaf  and  blind,  who 
>aw  nothing  beyond  the  Jerusalem  of  bricks  and  stone. 

The  question  which  Jesus  had  put  to  the  Twelve  on  the 
jroad  in  Caesarea  must  have  been  the  beginning  of  their  com- 
blete  conversion  to  the  new  truth.  What  need  did  Jesus  have 


234 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


1 


to  know  what  others  thought  of  Him?  Such  a  curiosity 
springs  up  only  in  doubtfpl  souls,  in  those  who  do  not  know 
themselves,  in  the  weak  who  cannot  read  in  their  own  hearts,  J 
in  the  blind  who  are  not  sure  of  the  ground  on  which  they  j 
stand.  For  any  one  of  us  such  a  question  is  legitimate,  but  ; 
not  for  Jesus.  No  one  of  us  knows  really  who  he  is,  no  one  < 
knows  with  any  certainty  what  is  his  real  nature,  his  mission.  \ 
and  the  name  which  he  has  a  right  to  call  his  ovm,  the  eternal  i 
name  which  fits  our  destiny.  The  name  which  was  given  tc  | 
us  in  infancy,  together  with  the  salt  and  water  of  baptism,  the  | 
name  set  down  on  the  municipal  register,  and  written  in  the 
records  of  birth  and  of  death,  the  name  which  the  mother  calls 
with  so  much  gentleness  in  the  morning,  which  the  sweetheart 
murmurs  with  so  much  desire  at  night,  the  name  which  is  cui 
for  the  last  time  on  the  rectangle  of  the  tomb,  that  is  not  oui 
real  name.  Every  one  of  us  has  a  secret- name  which  ex¬ 
presses  our  invisible  and  authentic  essence,  and  which  we  our¬ 
selves  will  never  know  until  the  day  of  the  New  Birth,  unti 
the  full  light  of  the  resurrection. 

Few  of  us  dare  to  ask  ourselves,  ‘^Who  am  I?”  and  then 
are  still  fewer  who  can  answer.  The  question  “Who  art  thou?’ 
is  the  most  tremendous,  the  most  weighty  which  man  can  put 
to  man.  Other  human  beings  are  for  each  of  us  a  sealed  mys¬ 
tery  even  in  the  moments  of  supreme  passion,  when  two  souls 
desperately  essay  to  become  one.  We  are  all  of  us  a  myster} 
even  to  ourselves.  Unknown  to  others,  we  live  among  others 
unknown  to  us.  Much  of  our  wretchedness  comes  from  this 
universal  ignorance.  Here  is  a  man  who  acts  like  a  king  and 
believes  himself  a  king  and  in  the  absolute  he  is  really  only 
a  poor  servant,  predestined  from  the  beginning  of  time  to  de¬ 
pendent  mediocrity.  Here  is  another  dressed  and  acting  like 
a  judge;  look  at  him  well;  he  is  born  a  dry-goods  dealer,  his 
real  place  is  in  the  country  fair.  That  man  there  who  writes 
poetry  has  not  understood  his  inner  voice;  he  should  be  2 
goldsmith,  because  gold  which  can  be  turned  into  coin  suits 
his  taste,  and  he  is  attracted  by  filigree,  mosaics,  chasing 
imitation  jewels.  This  other  man  who  is  at  the  head  of  ar 
army  ought  to  be  teaching  school.  What  an  expert  and  elo-. 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


235 


^  quent  professor  he  might  have  become  !  And  that  fellow  there, 
shouting  in  the  public  places,  heading  a  revolution,  calling  on 
the  people  to  revolt,  is  a  gardener  who  has  mistaken  his  call¬ 
ing;  the  red  of  tomatoes,  long  lines  of  onions,  garlic,  and 
cabbages  would  be  the  fit  reward  of  his  true  mission.  This 
other  man  here,  on  the  contrary,  who,  cursing  his  fate,  prunes 
I  his  grape-vines  and  spreads  the  manure  on  the  cultivated 
I  earth,  should  have  studied  in  law-books  the  art  of  quibbling: 

(  no  one  can  invent  sophisms  and  verbal  tricks  as  he  can,  and 
even  now,  how  much  eloquence  he  pours  out  in  humble  duels 
about  money  matters,  this  poor  ‘deading  lawyer”  exiled  to 
barns  and  furrows. 

I 

These  errors  concern  us  because  we  do  not  know,  because 
we  have  not  spiritual  eyes  strong  enough  to  read  in  the  heart 
I  which  beats  inside  our  own  breasts,  and  the  hearts  which  beat 
I  under  the  flesh  of  our  neighbors,  so  irrevocably  remote  from 
us.  Everything  is  in  confusion  because  of  those  Names  which 
we  do  not  know,  illegible  for  us,  known  to  genius  alone. 

THOU  ART  THE  CHRIST 

I  But  what  did  Jesus  care  what  was  said  of  Him  by  the  men 
of  the  lake  and  of  the  cities,  Jesus  who  could  read  in  their 
souls  the  thoughts  hidden  even  to  themselves?  Long  before 
'I  that  day  Jesus  alone  knew  with  ineffable  certainty  what  His 
I  real  name  was,  and  what  was  his  superhuman  nature.  As  a 
\  matter  of  fact  He  did  not  ask  that  He  might  know,  but,  now 
I  that  the  end  was  near,  that  His  faithful  followers  might  know, 

I  His  real  name,  at  last — even  they. 

I  “Some  say  that  thou  art  John  the  Baptist:  some,  Elias;  and 
I  others,  Jeremias  or,  one  of  the  Prophets.” 

;  What  were  these  things  to  Him,  these  rudimentary  guesses 
!  of  the  poor  and  the  ignorant?  Fie  wished  the  definite  answer 
;  to  come  from  His  Disciples,  destined  as  they  were  to  follow 
His  work  and  to  bear  witness  to  Him  among  the  peoples  and 
h  the  centuries.  Even  at  the  last  He  did  not  wish  to  impose  by 
ft  force  a  belief  on  those  who  had  seen  His  life  close  at  hand  and 
ft  had  heard  Him  speak.  The  recognition  of  His  superb  human 


236 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


I 

f 

Ì 

mission,  that  name  which  not  one  of  them  up  to  that  time  had 
pronounced  (as  if  they  were  afraid  of  it,  as  if  it  were  too 
dangerous  a  secret  to  speak  aloud),  that  recognition  on  the 
part  of  the  Twelve  should  be  free  and  spontaneous,  should  ! 
burst  out,  an  impetuous  confession  of  love,  from  one  of  those  : 
souls,  should  be  pronounced  by  one  of  those  mouths. 

‘Tut  whom  say  ye  that  I  am?’^  And  then  there  came  to  < 
Simon  Peter  the  great  light  that  was  almost  too  great  for  ^ 
him,  and  made  him  First  to  all  eternity.  He  could  not  keep  i 
back  the  words,  they  came  to  his  lips  almost  involuntarily  in  j 
a  cry  of  which  he  himself  the  moment  before  would  have  be¬ 
lieved  himself  incapable:  “Thou  art  the  Christ,  the  Son  of  the  ^ 
living  God.  Thou  hast  the  word  of  eternal  life,  and  we  be-  ; 
lieve  and  are  sure  that  thou  art  that  Christ,  the  Son  of  the  : 
living  God.’’ 

At  last  from  Peter  the  Rock  there  sprang  forth  the  well- 
spring  which  from  that  day  to  this  has  quenched  the  thirst  i 
of  sixty  generations  of  men.  It  was  his  right  and  his  reward. 
Peter  had  been  the  first  to  follow  Christ  in  the  divine  wan-  i 
derings:  it  was  for  him  to  be  the  first  to  recognize  in  the  'i, 
wanderer  the  Proclaimer  of  the  Kingdom,  the  everlasting  and  > 
lawful  sovereign  of  that  Kingdom,  the  Messiah  whom  all  men  i 
had  been  awaiting  in  the  desert  of  the  centuries,  who  had  ) 
finally  come  and  was  there  Himself,  clothed  in  flesh,  standing 
before  their  eyes,  with  His  feet  in  the  dust  of  the  road.  j 

The  pure  King,  the  Son  of  Justice,  the  Prince  of  Peace,  the 
Son  of  Man  sent  by  God,  the  Saviour,  the  Anointed,  whom  the  ^ 
prophets  had  foretold  in  the  twilight  of  sorrow  and  affliction;  ? 
who  had  been  seen  by  apocalyptic  writers  descending  upon  the 
earth  like  lightning,  in  the  fullness  of  victory  and  glory;  for 
whom  the  poor,  the  wounded,  the  hungry,  the  afflicted,  had  U 
been  waiting  from  century  to  century,  as  dry  grass  waits  for  J 
rain,  as  the  flower  waits  for  the  sun,  as  the  mouth  awaits  the 
kiss,  and  the  heart,  consolation;  the  Son  of  God  and  of  Man, 
the  Man  who  hid  God  in  human  flesh,  the  God  who  cloaked  | 
His  divinity  in  Adam’s  clay,  it  is  He,  the  dear  Brother  of  i 
every  day,  who  looks  quietly  into  the  astounded  eyes  of  those  | 

chosen  ones!  ] 

J/ 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


237 


The  period  of  waiting  is  done;  ended  is  the  vigil!  Why 
had  they  not  recognized  Him  until  that  day?  Whence  did  it 
come  in  those  simple  souls,  the  first  notion  of  the  true  name 
of  Him  who  so  many  times  had  taken  them  by  the  hand,  and 
had  spoken  for  their  ears  to  hear?  They  could  never  think 
that  one  of  them — a  common  man  like  them,  a  workman  and 
I  poor  as  they  were — could  be  the  Saviour  Messiah  announced 

I' and  awaited  by  saints  and  by  the  centuries.  With  the  intellect 
one  they  could  never  have  discovered  Him,  nor  with  the 
ere  bodily  senses,  nor  with  the  teachings  of  the  scriptures; 
ily  with  the  inspiration,  the  intuition,  the  sudden  flaming  il- 
mination  of  the  heart,  as  it  happened  that  day  in  the  soul  of 
3ter.  ^^Blessed  art  thou,  Simon  Bar-Jona;  for  flesh  and  blood 
ith  not  revealed  it  unto  thee,  but  my  Father  which  is  in 
eaven.’’  Fleshly  eyes  would  not  have  been  able  to  see  what 
ley  saw  without  a  revelation  from  on  high. 

But  weighty  consequences  flow  from  the  choice  of  Peter  for 
is  proclamation.  It  is  a  reward  which  calls  for  other  recom- 
mse,  “Thou  art  Peter,  and  upon  this  rock  I  will  build  my 
lurch;  and  the  gates  of  Hell  shall  not  prevail  against  it.  And 
will  give  unto  thee  the  keys  of  the  kingdom  of  heaven:  and 
hatsoever  thou  shalt  bind  on  earth  shall  be  bound  in  Heaven  : 
id  whatsoever  thou  shalt  loose  on  earth  shall  be  loosed  in 
eaven.” 

Weighty  words  from  which  have  emerged,  through  the  pa- 
snt  germination  of  long  centuries,  helped  by  the  fire  of  faith 
id  by  the  blood  of  witnesses,  one  of  the  greatest  Kingdoms 
hich  men  have  ever  established  upon  the  earth;  the  only  one 
■  the  old  kingdoms  which  still  lives  on  in  the  same  city  which 
-w  the  rise  and  fall  of  the  proudest  and  most  pompous  of 
irthly  kingdoms.  For  these  words  many  men  suffered,  many 
ere  tortured,  many  were  killed.  To  deny  or  uphold,  to  in- 
rpret  or  cancel  these  words,  thousands  of  men  have  been  killed 
L  city  squares  and  in  battles;  kingdoms  have  been  divided, 
)cieties  have  been  shaken  and  rent,  nations  have  waged  war, 
nperors  and  beggars  have  given  their  all.  But  their  meaning 
i  Christ’s  mouth  is  plain  and  simple.  He  means  to  say, 
Thou,  Peter,  shalt  be  hard  and  staunch  as  a  rock,  and  upon 


I 


238 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


the  staunchness  of  thy  faith  in  me,  which  thou  wast  the  first 
to  profess,  is  founded  the  first  Christian  society,  the  humble 
seed  of  the  Kingdom.  Against  this  Church  which  to-day  has 
only  Twelve  citizens  but  which  will  be  spread  to  the  limits  of 
the  earth,  the  forces  of  evil  cannot  prevail,  because  you  are  the 
Spirit  and  the  Spirit  cannot  be  overcome  and  dimmed  by 
Matter.  Thou  shalt  close  forever — and  when  I  speak  to  thee 
I  am  speaking  to  all  those  who  shall  succeed  thee  united  in 
the  same  certainty — the  Gates  of  Fieli;  and  thou  shalt  open  to 
all  those  who  are  chosen  the  Gates  of  Heaven.  Thou  shalt 
bind  and  thou  shalt  unloosen  in  my  name.  What  thou  shalt 
forbid  after  my  death  shall  be  forbidden  to-morrow  also  for 
that  new  humanity  v/hich  I  will  find  on  my  return;  what  thou 
shalt  command  shalt  be  justly  commanded  because  thou  wilt 
be  only  repeating  in  other  words  what  I  have  told  and  taught 
thee.  Thou  shalt  be,  in  thy  person  and  in  that  of  thy  legiti¬ 
mate  heirs,  the  shepherd  of  the  interregnum,  the  temporary 
and  provisional  guide  who  shalt  prepare,  together  with  com¬ 
rades  obedient  to  thee,  the  Kingdom  of  God  and  of  Love. 

“In  requital  for  this  revelation  and  for  this  promise  I  lay 
on  you  a  hard  command  :  to  keep  silence  ;  for  the  present  '  I 
you  must  tell  no  one  who  I  am.  My  day  is  near,  but  has 
not  yet  come;  you  will  be  witness  to  events  which  you  do J 
not  expect,  which  will  even  be  the  contrary  of  what  you  ex-  j 
pect.  I  know  the  hour  in  which  I  shall  speak  and  in  which  I  ; 
you  shall  speak.  And  when  we  break  our  silence,  my  cry  andli 


your  cry  shall  be  heard  in  the  most  distant  realms  of  Heaven  I 
and  Earth.’^ 


SUN  AND  SNOW 

i 

A  man’s  voice,  the  voice  of  Peter  the  Rock,  had  called  Him^i  !ii: 
the  Son  of  Man;  another  voice  issuing  from  a  cloud  was  to  Ir 
call  Him  the  Son  of  God.  jit 

Very  high  is  the  three-peaked  mountain  of  Hermon,  covered  fr 
with  snow  even  in  the  hot  season,  the  highest  mountain  of 
Palestine,  higher  than  Mount  Tabor.  The  Psalmist  says,  “It  isi  ;; 
the  dew  of  Hermon  that  descends  upon  the  mountains  of“ 


II 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


239 


Zion.”  Jesus  became  incarnate  light  on  this  mountain,  the 
highest  mountain  in  the  life  of  Christ,  that  life  which  marks 
its  different  stages  by  great  heights — the  mountain  of  the 
Temptation,  the  mountain  of  the  Beatitudes,  the  mountain  of 
the  Transfiguration,  the  mountain  of  the  Crucifixion. 

Three  Disciples  alone  were  with  Him:  he  who  was  called 
Peter,  and  the  Sons  of  Thunder, — the  man  with  the  rugged, 
mountainous  character,  and  the  stormy  men — fitting  company 
for  the  place  and  hour.  He  prayed  alone,  apart  from  them, 
higher  than  all  of  them,  perhaps  kneeling  in  the  snow.  All  of 
us  have  seen  in  winter  how  the  snow  on  a  mountain  makes  any 
other  whiteness  seem  dull  and  drab.  A  pale  face  seems 
strangely  dark,  white  linen  seems  dingy,  paper  looks  like  dry 
play.  The  contrary  of  all  this  was  seen  on  that  day  up  in 
the  gleaming,  deserted  height  alone  in  the  sky. 

Jesus  prayed  by  Himself  apart  from  the  others.  Suddenly 
His  face  shone  like  the  sun  and  His  raiment  became  as  white 
^s  snow  in  the  sunshine,  white  ‘‘as  no  fuller  on  earth  can  white 
them.”  Over  the  whiteness  of  the  snow  a  more  brilliant  white- 
jiess,  a  splendor  more  powerful  than  all  known  splendors,  out- 

Ihone  all  earthly  light. 

The  Transfiguration  is  the  Feast  and  the  Victory  of  Light. 
Tesus  still  in  the  flesh — for  so  short  a  time! — took  on  the  most 
;ubtle,  the  lightest  and  most  spiritual  aspect  of  matter.  His 
)ody  awaiting  its  liberation  became  sunlight,  the  light  of 
3eaven,  intellectual  and  supernatural  light;  His  soul  trans- 
igured  in  prayer  shone  out  through  the  flesh,  pierced  with 
ts  flaming  whiteness  the  screen  of  His  body  and  His  garments, 
ike  a  flame  consuming  the  walls  which  close  it  in,  and  flashing 
hrough  them. 

But  the  light  was  not  the  same  on  His  face  and  on  His 
jaiment.  The  light  of  His  face  was  like  the  sun;  that  of  His 
j;arments  was  like  the  brilliance  of  snow.  His  face,  mirror 
k  the  soul,  took  on  the  color  of  fire;  His  garments,  mere 
paterial  stuff,  were  white  like  ice.  For  the  soul  is  sun,  fire, 
love;  but  the  garments,  all  garments, — even  that  heavy  gar- 
pent  which  is  called  the  human  body, — are  opaque,  cold, 
lead;  and  can  shine  only  by  reflected  light. 


240 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


But  Jesus,  all  light,  Flis  face  gleaming  with  quiet  reful¬ 
gence,  His  garments  shining  white — gold  sparkling  in  the 
midst  of  silver — was  not  alone.  Two  great  figures,  returned 
from  death,  gleaming  like  Him,  stood  by  Him,  and  spoke  with 
Him,  Moses  and  Elias.  The  first  of  the  Prophets,  men  of 
light  and  fire,  came  to  bear  witness  to  the  new  Light  which 
shines  on  Hermon.  All  those  who  have  spoken  with  God  re¬ 
main  radiant  with  light.  The  face  of  Moses  when  he  came 
down  from  Mt.  Sinai  had  become  so  resplendent  that  he  cov¬ 
ered  it  with  a  veil,  lest  he  dazzle  the  others.  And  Elias  was 
caught  up  to  Heaven  in  a  chariot  of  fire  drawn  by  fiery  steeds. 
John,  the  new  Elias,  announced  the  baptism  of  fire,  but  his 
face  was  darkened  by  the  sun  and  did  not  shine  like  the  sun. 
The  only  splendor  which  came  into  his  life  was  the  golden 
platter  on  which  his  bloody  head  was  carried,  a  kingly  gift 
to  Herod’s  sinister  concubine.  But  on  Hermon  there  was  One 
whose  face  shone  more  than  Moses’  and  whose  ascension  was 
to  be  more  splendid  than  that  of  Elias, — ^He  whom  Moses  had 
promised  and  who  was  to  come  after  Elias.  They  had  come 
there  beside  him,  but  they  were  to  disappear  thereafter  for¬ 
ever.  They  were  no  longer  necessary  after  this  last  revela¬ 
tion.  From  now  on  the  world  can  do  without  their  laws  and 
their  hopes.  A  luminous  cloud  hid  the  glorious  three  from 
the  eyes  of  the  obscure  three,  and  from  the  cloud  came  out 
a  voice:  “This  is  my  beloved  Son:  hear  him.” 

The  cloud  did  not  hide  the  light,  but  increased  it.  As  from 
the  tempest-cloud,  the  lightning  darts  out  to  light  up  suddenly 
all  the  country;  from  this  cloud  already  shining  in  itself,  flamed 
out  the  fire  which  burned  up  the  Old  Covenant  and  confirmed 
to  all  eternity  the  New  Promise.  The  column  of  smoke  which 
guided  the  fleeing  Hebrews  in  the  desert  towards  Jordan,  the 
black  cloud  which  hid  the  ark  in  the  day  of  desolation  and 
fear,  had  finally  become  a  cloud  of  light  so  brilliant  that  it 
hid  even  the  sunlike  splendor  of  the  face  which  was  soon  to  be 
buffeted  in  the  dark  days,  close  at  hand. 

But  when  the  cloud  disappeared,  Jesus  was  once  more  alone 
The  two  precursors  and  the  two  witnesses  had  disappeared 
His  face  had  taken  on  its  natural  color.  His  garments  had 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


241 


their  everyday  aspect.  Christ,  once  more  a  loving  brother, 
turned  back  to  his  swooning  companions.  ^‘Arise,  and  be  not 
afraid.  .  .  .  Tell  the  vision  to  no  man,  until  the  son  of  man 
be  risen  again  from  the  dead.” 

The  Transfiguration  forecasts  the  Ascension;  but  to  die  in 
shame  always  precedes  rising  in  glory. 

I  SHALL  SUFFER  MANY  THINGS 

Jesus  had  known  that  He  must  soon  die  a  shameful  death. 
It  was  the  reward  for  which  he  was  waiting  and  no  one  could 
have  defrauded  Him  of  it.  He  who  saves  others  is  ready  to 
lose  himself;  he  who  rescues  others  necessarily  pays  with  his 
person  (that  is,  with  the  only  value  which  is  really  his  and 
which  surpasses  and  includes  all  other  values);  it  is  fitting 
that  he  who  loves  his  enemies  should  be  hated  even  by  his 
friends;  he  who  brings  salvation  to  all  nations  must  needs 
be  killed  by  his  own  people;  it  suits  human  ideas  of  the  fitness 
of  things  that  he  who  offers  his  life  should  be  put  to  death. 
Every  benefaction  is  such  an  offense  to  the  native  ingratitude 
of  men  that  it  can  be  paid  for  only  by  the  heaviest  penalty. 
We  lend  ears  only  to  voices  which  cry  out  from  the  tombs,  and 
reserve  our  scanty  capacity  for  reverence  for  those  whom  we 
have  assassinated.  The  only  truths  which  remain  in  the  fleet¬ 
ing  memory  of  the  human  race  are  the  truths  written  in  blood. 

Jesus  knew  what  was  awaiting  Him  at  Jerusalem,  and  as 
later  was  said  by  one  worthy  to  portray  Him,  His  every  thought 
was  colored  by  the  thought  of  death.  Three  times  they  had 
already  tried  to  kill  Him;  the  first  time  at  Nazareth  when 
they  took  Him  up  on  the  summit  of  the  mountain  where  the 
city  was  built  and  wished  to  cast  Him  down;  the  second  time 
in  the  Temple,  the  Jews,  offended  by  His  talk,  laid  their 
hands  on  stones  to  stone  Him;  and  a  third  time  at  the  feast 
of  the  Dedication  in  winter-time,  they  took  up  the  stones  of 
the  street  to  silence  Him.  But  for  these  three  times  he  es¬ 
caped  because  His  hour  was  not  yet  come. 

He  kept  His  certainty  of  death  in  His  own  heart  for  Himself 
alone  until  His  last  hours.  For  He  did  not  wish  to  sadden  His 


242 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


Disciples  who  would  have  shrunk  from  following  a  condemned 
man,  a  man  who  in  His  own  heart  knew  Himself  at  the  point 
of  death.  But  after  the  triple  consecration  as  Messiah — 
Peter’s  cry,  the  light  of  Hermon,  the  anointing  of  Bethany — 
He  could  no  longer  keep  silence.  He  knew  too  well  the  ingenu¬ 
ous  complacency  of  the  Twelve.  He  knew  that  when  the  rare 
moments  of  enthusiasm  and  illumination  were  gone,  their 
thoughts  were  often  the  common  thoughts  of  common  people, 
human  even  in  their  highest  dreams.  He  knew  that  the  Mes¬ 
siah  for  whom  they  were  waiting  was  a  victorious  restorer  of 
the  Age  of  Gold  and  not  the  Man  of  Sorrows.  They  thought 
of  Him  as  a  king  on  his  throne  and  not  as  a  criminal  on  the  gal¬ 
lows;  triumphant,  receiving  homage  and  tribute,  not  spat 
upon,  beaten,  and  insulted;  come  to  raise  the  dead  and  not  to 
be  executed  like  an  assassin. 

Lest  the  Disciples  should  lose  this  new  certainty  of  Christ’s 
Messiahship  on  the  day  of  His  ignominy,  Christ  knew  that  He 
must  warn  them.  They  must  learn  from  His  own  mouth  that 
the  Messiah  would  be  condemned,  that  the  Victorious  One 
would  disappear  in  a  dreadful  downfall,  that  the  King  of 
all  kings  would  be  insulted  by  C3esar’s  servants,  that  the  Son 
of  God  would  be  crucified  by  the  ignorant,  blind  servants  of 
God. 

Three  times  they  had  tried  to  put  Him  to  death;  three  times 
after  Peter’s  recognition  He  announced  to  the  Twelve  His  im¬ 
minent  death.  And  there  were  to  be  three  kinds  of  men  who 
were  to  bring  about  His  death  :  the  Elders,  the  High  Priests 
and  the  Scribes.  The  Elders  were  the  Patricians,  the  aristo¬ 
crats,  the  lay  delegates  of  the  Hebrew  middle-classes,  they  rep¬ 
resented  authority  and  wealth,,  and  Christ  had  come  to  trans¬ 
form  authority  into  service  and  to  condemn  the  rich  and  their 
treasures.  The  High  Priests  represented  the  Temple,  and  He 
had  come  to  destroy  the  Temple.  The  Scribes  were  the  doc¬ 
tors  of  law,  of  theology,  the  interpreters  of  the  Book,  the  mas¬ 
ters  of  the  Scriptures,  and  represented  the  authority  of  word 
and  of  tradition;  and  He  had  come  to  transform  the  Word 
and  to  regenerate  the  tradition.  These  three  orders  of  men 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


243 


never  could  forgive  Him  even  after  they  had  sent  Him  to 
Golgotha. 

And  there  were  to  be  three  accomplices  to  His  death:  Judas 
who  betrayed  Him,  Caiaphas  who  sentenced  Him,  Pilate  who 
permitted  the  execution  of  the  sentence.  And  there  were  to  be 
three  sorts  of  men  to  execute  the  penalty:  the  guards 
who  arrested  Him,  the  Hebrews  who  cried  ^^Crucify  Him!” 
before  the  procurator’s  house,  the  Roman  soldiers  v/ho  nailed 
Him  on  the  cross. 

There  were  to  be  three  degrees  of  His  afflictions,  as  He  Him¬ 
self  told  the  disciples.  First  He  was  to  be  spurned  and  out¬ 
raged,  then  spit  upon  and  beaten,  and  finally  killed.  But  they 
were  not  to  fear  nor  to  weep.  As  life  has  its  reward  in  death, 
death  is  the  promise  of  a  second  life.  After  three  days.  He  w^as 
to  rise  from  the  tomb,  never  more  to  die.  Christ  was  to  be  vic¬ 
torious  not  over  earthly  kingdoms,  but  over  death.  He  does 
not  bring  golden  treasures,  nor  abundance  of  grain,  but  im¬ 
mortality  to  all  those  who  obey  Him,  and  the  cancelation  of  all 
sins  committed  by  men.  He  was  to  buy  this  immortality  and 
this  liberation  by  imprisonment  and  death.  The  price  was 
hard  and  bitter,  but  without  those  few  days  of  His  Passion  and 
burial  He  could  not  have  secured  centuries  and  centuries  of 
life  and  freedom  for  men. 

The  Disciples  were  troubled  at  this  revelation  and  unwilling 
to  believe.  But  Jesus  had  already  begun  His  Passion,  fore¬ 
seeing  those  terrible  last  days  of  His  life  and  describing  them. 
From  now  on  the  heirs  of  His  work  knew  all,  and  He  could  go 
on  His  way  towards  Jerusalem  in  order  that  His  words  should 
be  fulfilled  to  the  very  last. 


i; 


MARANATHA 


And  yet  for  one  day  at  least  He  was  to  be  like  that  King 
awaited  by  the  poor  every  morning  on  the  thresholds  of  the 
holy  city. 

Easter  draws  near.  It  was  the  beginning  of  the  last  week 
which  even  now  had  not  yet  ended — since  the  new  Sabbath 


244 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


1 

has  not  yet  dawned.  But  this  time  Jesus  does  not  come  to 
Jerusalem  as  in  other  years^  an  obscure  wanderer  mingled  with 
the  crowd  of  pilgrims,  into  the  evil-smelling  metropolis  r 
huddled  with  its  houses,  white  as  sepulchers,  imder  the  tower-  ^ 
ing  vainglory  of  the  Temple  destined  to  the  flames.  This  time, 
which  is  the  last  time,  Jesus  is  accompanied  by  His  faithful 
friends,  by  His  fellow-peasants,  by  the  women  who  were  later 
to  weep,  by  the  Twelve  who  were  to  hide  themselves,  by  the  r 
Galileans  who  come  in  memory  of  an  ancient  miracle,  but  with  j 
the  hope  of  seeing  a  new  miracle.  This  time  He  is  not  alone;  jl 
the  vanguard  of  the  Kingdom  is  with  Him,  and  He  does  not! 
come  unknown  :  the  cry  of  the  Resurrection  has  preceded  Him.  * 
Even  in  the  capital  ruled  by  the  iron  of  the  Romans,  the  gold  ■ 
of  the  merchants,  the  letter  of  the  Pharisees,  there  are  eyes  ' 
which  look  towards  the  Mount  of  Olives  and  hearts  which  beat 
faster. 

This  time  He  does  not  come  on  foot  into  the  city  which 
should  have  been  the  throne  of  His  kingdom,  and  which  was 
to  be  His  tomb.  When  He  had  come  to  Bethpage,  He  sent  two 
disciples  to  look  for  an  ass,  “Go  into  the  village  over  against  ■ 
you,  and  straightway  ye  shall  find  an  ass  tied,  and  a  colt  with  • 
her;  loose  them,  and  bring  them  unto  me.  And  if  any  man} 
say  ought  unto  you,  ye  shall  say.  The  Lord  hath  need  of  f 
them.’’  • 

Even  up  to  our  days  it  has  been  said  that  Jesus  wished  to 
ride  on  an  ass  as  a  sign  of  humble  meekness,  as  if  He  wished  " 
to  signify  symbolically  that  He  approached  His  people  as  the 
Prince  of  Peace.  It  has  been  forgotten  that  in  the  robust 
early  periods  of  history  asses  were  not  the  submissive  beasts 
of  burden  of  to-day,  weary  bones  in  flogged  and  ill-treated  skin, 
brought  low  by  many  centuries  of  slavery,  used  only  to  carry 
baskets  and  bags  over  the  stones  of  steep  hills.  The  ass  of  an¬ 
tiquity  was  a  fiery  and  warlike  animal;  handsome  and  bold  as  j 
a  horse,  fit  to  be  sacrificed  to  divinities.  Homer,  master  of 
metaphors,  intended  no  belittling  of  Ajax  the  robust,  the j 
proud  Ajax,  when  he  likened  him  to  an  ass.  The  Jews  more¬ 
over  used  untamed  asses  for  other  comparisons:  Zophar  the 
Naamithite  said  to  Job,  “For  vain  man  would  be  wise  though  : 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


245 


. 


an  be  born  like  a  wild  ass’  colt.”  And  Daniel  tells  how  Neb¬ 
uchadnezzar,  as  expiation  of  his  tyrannies,  was  driven  from 
he  sons  of  men,  and  his  heart  was  made  like  the  beasts,  and 
is  dwelling  was  with  the  wild  asses, 

Jesus  asked  expressly  for  an  ass  not  yet  broken,  never  be¬ 
fore  ridden,  something  like  a  wild  ass,  because  on  that  day,  the 
animal  chosen  by  Him  was  not  a  symbol  of  the  humility  of  his 
•ider  but  was  a  symbol  of  the  Jewish  people,  who  were  to  be 
iberated  and  overcome  by  Christ;  the  animal,  unruly  and 
•estive,  stiff-necked,  whom  no  prophet  and  no  monarch  had 
nastered  and  who  to-day  was  tied  to  a  post  as  Israel  was 
ied  with  the  Roman  rope;  vain  and  foolhardy  as  in  the  Book 
)f  Job;  fitting  companion  for  an  evil  king;  slave  to  foreigners, 
)ut  at  the  same  time  rebellious  to  the  end  of  time,  the  Hebrew 
)eople  had  finally  found  its  master.  For  one  day  only:  it  re- 
l^olted  against  Him,  its  legitimate  master  in  that  same  week; 
put  its  revolt  succeeded  only  for  a  short  time.  The  quarrel- 
;ome  capitol  was  pulled  down  and  the  god-killing  crowd  dis- 
)ersed  like  the  husks  of  the  eternal  Winnower  over  all  the 
■ace  of  the  earth. 

The  ass’s  back  is  hard,  and  Christ’s  friends  throw  their 
:loaks  over  it.  Stony  is  the  slope  which  leads  from  the  Mount 
)f  Olives  and  the  triumphant  crowds  throw  their  mantles  over 
the  rough  stones.  This,  too,  is  symbolical  of  self-consecra- 
|;ion.  To  take  off  your  mantle  is  the  beginning  of  stripping 
^ourself,  the  beginning  of  that  bareness  which  is  the  desire  for 
onfession  and  the  death  of  false  shame;  bareness  of  the  body, 
promising  naked  truth  for  the  soul.  The  loving  charity  of  su- 
Dreme  alms-giving;  to  give  what  we  have  on  our  backs,  ‘Hf  any 
nan  .  .  .  shall  take  away  thy  coat,  let  him  have  thy  cloke 
Uso.” 

Then  began  the  descent  in  the  heat  of  the  sun  and  of  glory; 
n  the  midst  of  freshly  cut  branches  and  of  songs  of  hope.  It 
J^ras  at  the  beginning  of  breezy  April  and  of  the  spring.  The 
l^olden  hour  of  noon  lay  about  the  city  with  its  green  vine- 
»^ards,  fields  and  orchards.  The  sky,  immense,  deep  blue, 
niraculously  calm,  clear  and  joyful  as  the  promise  of  divine 
jyes,  stretched  away  into  the  infinite.  The  stars  could  not 


246 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


be  seen,  yet  the  light  of  our  sun  seemed  augmented  by  the  quiet  ^ 
brilliance  of  those  other  distant  suns.  A  warm  breeze,  still  I 
scented  with  the  freshness  of  heaven,  gently  swayed  the  tender  : 
tree-tops  and  set  the  young,  growing  leaves  a-flutter.  It  was  1 
one  of  those  days  when  blue  seems  bluer,  green  seems  greener,  j 
light  more  brilliant  and  love  more  loving. 

Those  who  accompanied  Christ  in  that  descent  felt  them-  i 
selves  swept  away  by  the  rapture  of  the  world  and  of  the  mo-  I 
ment.  Never  before  that  day  had  they  felt  themselves  so 
bursting  with  hope  and  adoration.  The  cry  of  Peter  became  i 
the  cry  of  the  fervent  little  army  winding  its  way  down  the  ' 
slope  towards  the  queen-city.  “Hosanna  to  the  Son  of  David!’’ 
said  the  voices  of  the  young  men  and  of  the  women,  in  the  midst  1 
of  this  impetuous  exultation.  Even  the  Disciples  almost  be-  j 
gan  to  hope,  although  they  had  been  warned  that  this  would  i 
be  the  last  sun,  although  they  knew  that  they  were  accompany¬ 
ing  a  man  about  to  die. 

The  procession  approached  the  mysterious,  hostile  city  with 
the  roaring  tumult  of  a  torrent  that  has  burst  its  banks.  These  i 
countrymen,  these  people  from  the  provinces,  came  forward  i 
flanked  as  by  a  moving  forest,  as  if  they  had  wished  to  carry 
a  little  country  freshness  inside  the  noisome  walls,  into  the  !  1 
drab  alleyways.  The  boldest  had  cut  palm  branches ,  along  i 
the  road,  boughs  of  myrtle,  clusters  of  olives,  willow  leaves,  j 
and  they  waved  them  on  high,  shouting  out  the  impassioned  ^ 
words  of  the  Psalmist  towards  the  shining  face  of  Him  who  1  ' 
came  in  the  name  of  God.  i 

Now  the  first  Christian  legion  had  arrived  before  the  gates 
of  Jerusalem  and  the  voices  did  not  still  their  homage: 
“Blessed  be  the  King  that  cometh  in  the  name  of  the  Lord:  i 
peace  in  heaven,  and  glory  in  the  highest!”  Their  shouting  ; 
reached  the  ears  of  the  Pharisees,  who  arrived,  haughty  and  ) 
severe,  to  investigate  the  seditious  noise.  The  cries  scandalized 
those  learned  ears  and  troubled  those  suspicious  hearts,  and 
some  of  them,  well  wrapped  up  in  their  doctoral  cloaks,  called 
from  among  the  crowd  to  Jesus:  “Master,  rebuke  thy  dis¬ 
ciples.”  And  then  He,  without  halting,  “I  tell  you  that,  if  these 


? 

LIFE  OF  CHRIST  247 

should  hold  their  peace,  the  stones  would  immediately  cry 
I  out!” 

The  silent,  motionless  stones  which,  according  to  St.  John, 
God  could  have  transformed  into  sons  of  Abraham;  the  hot 
I  stones  of  the  desert  which  Jesus  was  not  willing  to  change  into 
I  loaves  of  bread  at  the  challenge  of  the  Adversary;  the  hostile 
I  stones  of  the  street  which  twice  had  been  picked  up  to  stone 
I  Him;  the  hard  stones  of  Jerusalem  would  have  been  less  hard, 
less  icy,  less  insensitive  than  the  souls  of  the  Phrarisees. 

But  with  this  answer,  Jesus  had  asserted  His  right  to  be 
called  ^^the  Christ.”  It  was  a  declaration  of  war.  At  the  very 
moment  of  His  entrance  into  His  city,  the  New  Eling  gave  the 
signal  for  the  attack. 

THE  DEN  OF  THIEVES 

He  went  up  to  the  Temple  where  all  His  enemies  were  as- 
!  sembled.  On  the  hill-top  the  sacred  fortress  sunned  its  new 
f  whiteness  in  the  magnificence  of  the  day.  The  old  Ark  of  the 

i  nomads,  drawn  by  oxen  through  sweltering  deserts  and  over 

■  battlefields,  had  halted  on  that  height,  petrified  as  a  defense 
^  for  the  royal  city.  The  moveable  cart  of  the  fugitives  had 
I  become  a  heavy  citadel  of  stone  and  marble,  a  pompous  strong- 
|i  hold  of  palaces  and  stairways,  shady  with  colonnades,  lighted 

■  with  courts,  enclosed  by  walls,  sheer  above  the  valley,  pro- 
'  tected  by  bastions  and  by  towers,  a  fortress  rather  than  a  place 
I  of  worship.  It  was  not  only  the  precinct  of  the  Holy  of 
I  Holies,  and  the  sacrificial  altar,  it  was  no  longer  only  the 
I  Temple,  the  mystic  sanctuary  of  the  people.  With  its  great 
h  old  towers,  its  guardrooms,  its  warehouses  for  offerings,  its 

ii  strong-boxes  for  deposits,  its  open  piazzas  for  trade  and  cov- 
ered  galleries  for  meetings  and  amusement,  it  was  anything 
rather  than  a  sanctuary  for  meditation  and  prayer.  It  was 
everything,  a  fortress  in  case  of  assault,  a  bank-vault,  a 
market-place  in  time  of  pilgrimage  and  feast-days,  a  bazar  on 

I  all  days,  a  forum  for  the  disputes  of  politicians,  the  wranglings 
]of  doctors  ana  the  gossip  of  idlers;  a  thoroughfare,  a  rendez- 


248 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


vous,  a  business  center.  Built  by  a  faithless  King  to  win  over 
the  favor  of  a  captious  and  seditious  people,  to  satisfy  the  | 
pride  and  avarice  of  the  priestly  caste,  an  instrument  of  war  1 
and  a  market-place  for  trade,  it  must  have  seemed  to  the  eyes  I 
of  Jesus  the  natural  focus  for  all  the  enemies  of  His  truth.  j 

Jesus  goes  up  to  the  Temple  to  destroy  the  Temple.  He  | 
will  leave  to  the  Romans  of  Titus  the  task  of  literally  disman-  | 
tling  the  walls,  of  scattering  the  masses  of  stone,  of  burning  I 
down  the  buildings,  of  stealing  the  bronze  and  gold,  of  re-  I 
ducing  to  a  smoky  and  accursed  ruin  the  great  stronghold  of  | 
Herod;  but  He  will  destroy  the  values  which  the  proud  Temple  ? 
upheld  with  its  piled-up  blocks  of  ordered  stone,  its  paved  | 
terraces  and  its  golden  doors.  Jesus  goes  up  towards  the  Tern-  j 
pie:  the  Man  transfigured  on  the  mountain  is  set  against  the  J 
scribes  parched  and  withered  among  their  scrolls;  the  Messiah  I 
of  the  New  Kingdom  against  the  usurper  of  the  kingdom  de-  1 
filed  by  compromises,  corrupt  with  infamy;  the  Gospel  against  j 
the  Torah;  the  future  against  the  past;  the  fire  of  love  against  I 
the  ashes  of  the  Letter.  The  day  of  battle  is  at  hand.  Jesus,  | 
among  the  songs  of  His  fervent  band,  goes  up  to  the  sumptuous  I 
lair  of  His  enemies.  Well  does  He  know  the  street.  How  A 
many  times  He  had  gone  over  it  as  a  little  child  led  along  by  J 
the  hand  in  the  crowd  of  pilgrims,  in  the  midst  of  noise  and  ' 
dust,  in  the  band  of  Galileans!  Later  as  an  unknown  boy, 
confused  by  the  dust  and  heat  of  the  sun,  tired  and  bewildered,  ^ 
He  used  to  look  toward  the  walls  desperately  longing  to  ar-;’;.| 
rive  at  the  summit,  hoping  to  find  up  there  in  the  sacred^^I 
precincts  a  little  shade  for  His  eyes,  cool  water  for  His  mouth,ftf| 
a  word  of  consolation  for  His  heart.  ;■  1 

But  to-day  everything  is  transformed.  He  is  not  led  along. 

He  leads  along.  He  does  not  come  to  adore,  but  to  punish.^.  :i 
He  knows  that  there  inside,  behind  the  beautiful  facades  ofi  c 
the  sublime  sepulcher,  there  are  only  ashes  and  corruption  ■ 
His  enemies  selling  ashes  and  feeding  themselves  on  corrup-  ] 
tion.  The  first  adversary  who  comes  before  Him  is  the  demon  “ 
of  greed. 

He  enters  into  the  Court  of  the  Gentiles,  the  most  spacious  ^J 
and  most  densely  crowded  of  all.  The  great,  sunny,  well-  J 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


249 


)aved  terrace  is  not  the  atrium  of  a  sanctuary,  but  a  dirty 
narket-place.  An  immense,  roaring  din  rises  up  from  the  ver- 
nin-like  crowd  of  bankers,  of  buyers  and  sellers,  of  money- 
dangers  who  give  and  take  money.  There  are  herdsmen  with 
heir  oxen  and  their  flocks  of  sheep;  venders  of  pigeons  and 
:urtle  doves,  standing  by  the  long  lines  of  their  coops;  bird- 
iellers,  with  cages  of  chirping  sparrows;  benches  for  money- 
hangers,  with  bowls  overflowing  with  copper  and  silver.  Mer- 
I  hants,  their  feet  in  the  fresh-dropped  dung,  handle  the  flanks 
t)f  the  animals  destined  for  sacrifice;  or  call  with  monotonous 
I  teration  women  who  have  come  there  after  child-birth,  pil- 

I^ims  who  have  come  to  offer  a  rich  sacrifice,  lepers  who  offer 
iving  birds  for  their  cure,  obtained  or  hoped  for.  Money- 
1  hangers,  with  a  coin  hung  at  their  ears  as  a  mark  of  their 
l.xade,  gloatingly  plunge  their  greedy  talons  into  gleaming 
i-^flles;  the  go-betweens  run  about  in  the  swarm  of  the  gossip- 
ng  groups;  niggardly,  wary  provincials  hold  excited  confer- 
.-bnces  before  loosening  the  purse  strings  to  change  their  cash 
nor  a  votive  offering,  and  from  time  to  time  a  restless  ox  drowns 
mt  with  his  deep  bellow  the  thin  bleating  of  the  lambs,  the 
lihrill  voices  of  the  women,  the  clinking  of  drachma  and 
/ihekels. 

ii  Christ  was  familiar  with  the  spectacle.  He  knew  that 
jihe  house  of  God  had  been  turned  into  the  house  of  Mam- 
fnon,  and  that,  instead  of  silently  invoking  the  Spirit,  material- 
minded  men  trafficked  there  in  the  filth  of  the  Demon,  with  the 
priests  as  their  accomplices.  But  this  time  He  did  not  restrain 
pis  scorn  and  His  repugnance.  To  destroy  the  Temple,  He 
Commenced  with  the  destruction  of  the  market-place.  The 
^'Sternal  Mendicant,  the  poor  man,  accompanied  by  his  poor 
;|’riends,  flung  Himself  against  the  servitors  of  money.  He  had 
.m  His  hand  a  length  of  rope,  which  He  knotted  together  like 
^  whip,  and  with  it  He  opened  a  passage-way  through  the  as¬ 
tonished  people.  The  benches  of  the  money-changers  crashed 
lown  at  the  first  shock.  The  coins  were  scattered  on  the 
ground  amid  yells  of  astonishment  and  wrath;  the  seats  of  the 
bird-sellers  were  overturned  beside  their  scattered  pigeons. 
Che  herdsmen  began  to  urge  towards  the  doors  the  oxen  and 
! 

1 

I 

i 

I 

1 


250 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


the  sheep.  The  sparrow-sellers  took  their  cages  under  their  : 
arms  and  disappeared.  Cries  rose  to  Heaven,  some  scandal-  , 
ized,  some  approving;  from  the  other  court-yards  other  people  ! 
came  running  towards  the  disturbance.  Jesus,  surrounded  by  : 
the  boldest  of  His  friends,  was  brandishing  His  whip  on  high, 
and  driving  the  money-changers  towards  the  door.  And  He  ' 
repeated  in  a  loud  voice,  “My  house  shall  be  called  the  house  ' 
of  prayer;  but  ye  have  made  it  a  den  of  thieves!’’ 

And  the  last  money-handlers  disappeared  from  the  courts 
like  rubbish  scattered  by  the  wind. 

BUSINESS  THE  GOD 

This  action  of  Jesus  was  not  only  the  righteous  purification  : 
of  the  sanctuary,  but  also  the  public  manifestation  of  His  de-  i 
testation  for  Mammon  and  the  servants  of  Mammon.  Busi-  ? 
ness,  that  modern  god,  was  for  Him  a  form  of  theft.  A  market-  • 
place  was  therefore  a  cave  of  obsequious  brigands,  of  tolerated  ) 
thieves.  Among  all  the  elements  of  the  legalized  theft  which  i 
is  called  commerce,  none  is  more  detestable  and  shameful  than  ; 
the  use  of  money.  If  some  one  gives  you  a  sheep  in  exchange  i 
for  money,  you  can  be  sure  that  he  has  made  you  pay  more  : 
money  than  the  sheep  really  cost,  but  at  least  he  gives  you 
something  which  is  not  a  hateful  mineral  symbol  of  wealth. 
He  gives  you  a  living  being,  which  will  furnish  you  wool  in 
the  spring  time,  which  will  bear  you  a  lamb,  and  which  you  ' 
can  eat  if  you  like.  But  the  exchange  of  money  for  money, j  ' 
of  coined  metal  for  coined  metal,  is  something  unnatural,  para-1 
doxical  and  demoniac.  Everything  that  is  known  of  banks, 
rates  of  exchange,  discount  and  usury,  is  a  shameful  and  re¬ 
pellent  mystery  which  has  always  been  the  terror  of  simple 
souls,  that  is,  of  upright  and  deep  souls.  The  peasant  whoi 
sows  his  grain,  the  tailor  who  makes  a  garment,  the  weaver 
who  weaves  wool  or  linen,  have  up  to  a  certain  limit  a  real  right 
that  their  wealth  should  increase,  because  they  have  added 
something  which  before  was  not  in  the  world,  in  cloth,  in  wool 
But  that  a  mountain  of  money  should  bring  forth  other  money 
without  labor  or  effort,  without  production  by  man  of  any  ob; 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


251 


I  ject  to  be  seen,  to  be  consumed,  to  be  enjoyed,  is  a  scandal 
[I  which  goes  beyond,  and  confounds  human  imagination. 

J  Money-changers,  bankers,  amassers  of  silver  and  gold,  are 
i  slaves  of  the  witchcraft  of  the  Demon  more  than  all  others. 
I  And  it  is  to  those  men,  the  mien  of  banks  and  of  finance,  that 
the  grateful  Demon  gives  power  on  this  earth:  they  are  the 
ones  even  to-day  who  rule  nations,  instigate  wars,  who  starve 
nations,  and  who,  by  an  infernal  system  of  their  own,  suck 
out  the  life  of  the  poor,  transformed  into  gold,  dripping  v^^ith 
sweat  and  blood. 

Christ,  who  pitied  the  rich,  but  who  hated  and  detested 
wealth,  the  great  wall  which  cuts  off  from  men  the  vision  of  the 
Kingdom  of  Heaven,  had  broken  up  the  den  of  thives  and  had 
purified  the  Temple  where  He  was  to  teach  the  last  truths 
I  which  remained  to  Him  to  expound.  But  with  that  violent  ac- 
f  tion.  He  had  antagonized  all  the  commercial  middle-class  of 
!i  Jerusalem.  The  men  He  had  driven  away  demanded  that 
I  their  patrons  should  punish  the  man  who  was  ruining  business 

i  on  the  Holy  Hill.  These  men  of  money  found  ready  hearing 

I  with  the  men  of  Law,  already  embittered  for  other  reasons, 

ii  so  much  the  more  because  Jesus  in  disturbing  the  business  of 
È  the  Temple  had  condemned  and  harmed  the  priests  themselves. 

II  The  most  successful  bazars  were  the  property  of  the  sons  of 
j  Annas,  that  is,  close  relations  of  the  Fligh-Priest  Caiaphas. 

I  All  the  doves  which  were  sold  in  the  Court  of  the  Gen- 
l  tiles  were  raised  on  the  property  of  Annas,  and  the  priests  who 
I  did  business  in  them  made  a  good  income  every  month  out  of 
»  turtle-doves  alone.  The  money-changers,  who  should  not  have 
;i  been  allowed  to  stay  in  the  Temple,  paid  the  great  Sadducee 
3  families  of  the  priestly  aristocracy  a  goodly  tithe  on  the  thou- 
I  sands  of  shekels  brought  in  every  year  by  the  exchange  of 
!  foreign  money  into  Hebrew  money.  Had  not  the  Temple  itself 
perhaps  become  a  great  national  bank  with  coffers  and  strong 
boxes  in  treasure  chambers? 

Jesus  had  wounded  the  twenty  thousand  priests  of  Jerusalem 
in  their  prestige  and  in  their  purses.  He  had  overturned  the 
values  of  the  falsified  and  mutilated  Letter,  in  the  name  of 
]  which  they  commanded  and  on  which  they  fattened.  More 


f 


252  LIFE  OF  CHRIST 

than  this,  He  had  driven  out  their  associates,  the  traffickers  and 
bankers.  If  He  had  His  way,  it  would  ruin  them  all.  But  the 
two  threatened  castes  drew  together  still  more  closely,  to  make  ; 
way  with  the  dangerous  intruder.  It  was  perhaps  that  very  1 
evening  that  priests  and  merchants  agreed  on  the  purchase  of  1 
a  betrayer  and  a  cross.  The  bourgeoisie  were  to  give  the  small  I 
amount  of  money  necessary;  the  clergy  to  find  the  religious  J 
pretext;  the  foreign  government,  naturally  desiring  to  be  on  ^ 
good  terms  with  clergy  and  bourgeoisie,  would  lend  its  soldiers. 

But  Jesus,  having  left  the  Temple,  went  His  way  towards 
Bethany,  peissing  by  the  Mount  of  Olives. 

THE  VIPERS  OF  THE  TOMBS  j 

The  next  morning  when  he  went  back,  the  herdsmen  and 
merchants  had  squatted  down  outside,  near  thè  doors,  but  the 
courts  were  humming  with  crowds  of  excited  people. 

The  sentence  pronounced  and  executed  by  Jesus  against  the  ; 
honest  thieves  had  set  gossiping  Jerusalem  all  agog.  Those  • 
blows  of  the  whip,  like  so  many  stones  thrown  into  the  Jeru-  1 
Salem  frog-pond,  had  awakened  the  poor  to  joyous  hope  and  > 
had  set  the  lords  quaking  with  fear. 

And  early  in  the  morning,  all  had  gone  up  there  from  the 
dark  alleys  and  from  the  fine  houses,  from  the  work-shops  and 
from  the  public  squares,  leaving  all  their  affairs,  with  the  ; 
restless  anxiety  of  those  who  hope  for  miracles,  or  revenge.  ^ 
The  day-laborers  had  come,  the  weavers,  the  dyers,  the  cob-  ■ 
biers,  the  woodworkers,  all  those  who  detested  the  swindlers, 
the  stranglers,  the  shearers  of  poverty,  traders  who  enriched  . 
themselves  at  the  expense  of  indigence.  Among  the  first  had  i, 
come  the  lamentable  scum  of  the  city,  the  dirty  vermin-ridden 
prisoners  of  eternal  beggary,  with  leprous  scabs,  with  their 
sores  uncared  for,  with  their  bones  protruding  through  the 
skin  to  testify  to  their  hunger.  There  had  also  come  pilgrims 
from  outside,  those  of  Galilee,  who  had  accompanied  Jesus  in 
His  festal  entrance;  and  with  them  Jews  from  the  Syrian  and 
Egyptian  colonies,  dressed  in  their  best,  like  distant  relatives 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


253 

who  reappear  every  once  in  so  often  at  the  family  home  for  a 
j  family  festival. 

i  But  there  came  up  also,  in  groups  of  four  or  five,  the 
"Scribes  and  Pharisees.  They  were  fraternal  colleagues,  fit- 
\  ting  companions  for  each  other.  The  Scribes  were  the  Doc- 
i  tors  of  the  Law;  the  Pharisees  were  the  Puritans  of  the  Law. 
;  Nearly  all  the  Scribes  were  Pharisees,  many  Pharisees  were 
•  Scribes.  Imagine  a  professor  adding  religious  pedantry  to 
his  doctoral  pedantry;  or  a  religious  hypocrite  provided  also 
with  the  grave  face  of  a  casuistical  pedagogue,  and  you  will 
have  the  modern  equivalent  of  a  Pharisaical  Scribe,  or  of  a 
Pharisee  who  was  also  a  Scribe.  A  Tartuffe  with  academic 
honors;  an  Academician,  who  is  at  the  same  time  a  religious 
hypocrite;  a  philosophizing  Quaker,  are  other  modern  equiva¬ 
lents. 

These  men  therefore  went  up  that  morning  to  the  Temple 
with  much  show  of  pride  without  and  many  evil  intentions 
within.  They  came  up  proudly  wrapped  in  their  long  cloaks, 
with  their  fringes  fluttering,  their  chests  thrown  out,  their  eyes 
.clouded,  their  eyebrows  raised,  with  sneering  mouths  and 
quivering  nostrils,  with  a  step  which  announced  their  impor¬ 
tance  and  the  indignation  felt  by  them,  God’s  privileged 
sheriffs. 

Jesus,  in  the  midst  of  all  these  eyes  turned  on  Him,  waited 
for  those  men.  It  was  not  the  first  time  that  they  had  come 
about  Him.  How  many  discussions  between  Him  and  the  pro¬ 
vincial  Pharisees  had  taken  place  here  and  there  in  the  coun- 
,  try!  They  were  Pharisees  who  had  demanded  a  sign  from 
Heaven,  a  supernatural  proof  that  He  was  the  Messiah — be¬ 
cause  the  Pharisees,  unlike  the  skeptical  Sadducees,  sunk  in 
legalized  Epicureanism,  believed  in  the  imminent  arrival  of  the 
'  Saviour. 

But  the  Pharisees  expected  to  see  this  Saviour  as  a  Jew, 
strictly  observing  all  laws  as  they  did,  and  they  held  that  to 
be  worthy  to  receive  Him  it  v^^as  enough  to  be  clean  on  the 
outside  and  to  avoid  any  transgression  of  any  of  the  trivial 
rules  of  Leviticus.  The  Messiah,  the  son  of  David,  would  not 


I 

il 


254 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


deign  to  save  those  who  had  not  avoided  all  contact,  even  re¬ 
mote,  with  foreigners  and  with  heathens,  who  had  not  observed 
the  smallest  detail  of  legal  purification,  who  had  not  paid  all 
the  tithes  of  the  Temple,  who  did  not  respect  at  any  cost  the 
sanctity  of  the  Sabbath  day.  In  their  eyes  Jesus  could  not 
possibly  be  the  Divine  Redeemer.  No  spectacular  and  magic 
signs  had  been  seen:  He  had  contented  Himself  with  healing 
the  sick,  with  talking  about  love,  and  with  loving.  They  had 
seen  Him  dining  with  publicans  and  sinners,  and,  worse  than 
everything  else,  had  heard  with  horror  that  Flis  disciples  did 
not  always  wash  their  hands  before  sitting  down  to  the  table. 
But  the  greatest  horror,  the  unendurable  scandal,  had  been 
His  lack  of  respect  for  the  Sabbath.  Jesus  had  not  hesitated 
to  cure  the  sick,  even  on  the  Sabbath,  and  He  held  it  no  crime 
on  that  day  to  do  good  to  His  unfortunate  brothers.  He  even 
shamelessly  gloried  in  this,  claiming  blasphemously  that  the 
Sabbath  was  made  for  man,  rather  than  man  for  the  Sab¬ 
bath. 

In  the  minds  of  the  Pharisees  there  was  only  one  doubt  about 
Jesus:  was  He  a  fool  or  an  impostor?  To  put  the  matter  to  the 
test,  they  had  tried  many  times  to  trap  Him  by  theological 
tricks,  or  in  dialectical  subtleties,  but  to  no  avail.  As  long  as 
He  went  about  in  the  provinces  drawing  after  Him  a  few 
dozen  peasants,  they  had  let  Him  alone,  sure  that  some  day 
or  other  the  last  beggar,  disillusioned,  would  leave  Him.  But 
now  the  affair  was  becoming  serious.  Accompanied  by  a  band 
of  excitable  countrymen.  He  had  gone  so  far  as  to  enter  into  the 
Temple  as  though  it  belonged  to  Him,  and  had  seduced  some 
ignorant  unfortunates  to  call  Him  the  Messiah.  More  than 
that,  usurping  the  place  of  the  priests,  and  almost  giving  Him¬ 
self  the  airs  of  a  king,  He  had  roughly  driven  out  the  honest 
merchants,  pious  people  who  admired  the  Pharisees,  even  if 
they  did  not  entirely  imitate  them.  Up  to  that  time  the 
Pharisees  had  been  too  easy-going  and  merciful  towards  Him. 
But  from  now  on  the  unequaled  goodness  of  heart  of  those  ex¬ 
tremely  mild  and  tolerant  professors  would  be  dangerous  and 
inopportune.  The  intolerable  scandal,  the  reiterated  profana¬ 
tion,  the  public  challenge,  called  for  condemnation  and  punish- 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


255 


I  ment.  The  false  Christ  must  be  disposed  of  and  at  once. 
I  Scribes  and  Pharisees  went  up  on  the  hill  to  see  if  He  had  had 
I  the  impertinence  to  go  back  to  the  place  contaminated  by 
I  His  boasting. 

I  Jesus  was  waiting  for  just  those  men.  He  wanted  to  say  to 
.  them  publicly,  with  the  open  sky  as  witness,  what  He  thought 
I  of  them,  what  God  thought  of  them,  the  definite  truth  about 
!  them.  The  day  before,  with  His  whip,  He  had  condemned  the 
animal-sellers  and  money-changers.  Now  He  was  dealing  with 
the  merchants  of  the  Word,  with  the  usurers  of  the  Law,  with 
the  swindlers  of  Truth.  The  condemnation  of  that  day  did  not 
exterminate  them:  with  every  generation  such  men  spring  up 
again,  innumerable,  with  new  names;  but  their  faces  are 
stamped  forever  with  this  condemnation  wherever  they  are 
born  and  command. 


THE  DESCENDANTS  OF  CAIN 


i 

'll 


,1 


“Woe  unto  you,  scribes  and  Pharisees,  hypocrites  I”  Their 
sins  could  be  reduced  to  one,  but  that  is  the  most  poisonous, 
the  least  pardonable  of  all  sins:  the  sin  against  the  Spirit,  the 
sin  against  Truth,  the  betrayal  of  Truth  and  Spirit,  the  laying 
waste  of  the  only  pure  wealth  which  the  world  possesses. 
Thieves  steal  perishable  goods,  assassins  kill  the  corruptible 
body,  prostitutes  sully  flesh  destined  to  corruption;  but  the 
hypocrites,  the  Pharisees  sully  the  Word  of  the  absolute,  steal 
the  promises  of  eternity,  assassinate  the  soul.  Everything  in 
them  is  pretense  :  their  dress  and  their  talk,  their  teaching  and 
their  practice.  What  they  say  is  contradicted  by  what  they 
do.  Their  inner  life  does  not  correspond  to  what  they  choose 
to  show.  Secret  swinishness  gives  the  lie  to  their  every  claim. 
They  are  hypocrites  because  they  cover  themselves  with  fringed 
mantles  and  with  wide  phylacteries,  to  be  seen  in  public  places, 
and  love  to  be  called  “Master,”  and  all  the  time  they  have 
hidden  the  keys  of  knowledge  and  have  shut  the  gates  of  the 
Kingdom  of  Heaven,  and  neither  go  in  themselves  nor  suffer 
others  to  enter.  H5qDocrites  because  they  make  long  prayers 
in  public  and  devour  the  houses  of  widows,  and  take  advantage 


256 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


of  the  weak  and  the  desolate.  Hypocrites  because  they  wash 
and  clean  the  outside  of  the  platter  and  the  cup,  and  inside  they 
are  full  of  rapine  and  extortion.  Hypocrites  because  they  give 
their  attention  to  minutiae  of  rites  and  purifications  and  have 
no  care  for  greater  things:  they  strain  at  a  gnat  and  swallow 
a  camel.  Hypocrites  because  they  observe  the  smallest  com¬ 
mandments  and  do  not  obey  the  only  one  which  is  of  value: 
they  pay  punctually  the  tithe  of  mint  and  anise  and  cummin 
and  rue,  but  they  have  not  justice,  mercy  and  faith  in  their 
hearts.  Hypocrites  because  they  build  monuments  to  the 
prophets  and  garnish  the  sepulchers  of  righteous  men  of  old 
times,  but  persecute  the  righteous  men  of  to-day,  and  are  pre¬ 
paring  to  kill  the  prophets.  ^^Ye  serpents,  ye  generation  of 
vipers,  how  can  ye  escape  the  damnation  of  hell?  Wherefore, 
behold  I  sent  unto  you  prophets,  and  wise  men,  and  scribes: 
and  some  of  them  ye  shall  kill  and  crucify;  and  some  of  them 
shall  ye  scourge  in  your  synagogues,  and  persecute  them  from 
city  to  city:  That  upon  you  may  come  all  the  righteous  blood  ! 
shed  upon  the  earth,  from  the  blood  of  righteous  Abel  unto  the 
blood  of  Zacharias  son  of  Barachias,  whom  ye  slew  between  i 
the  temple,  and  the  altar.” 

They  have  accepted  the  inheritance  of  Cain.  They  are  the 
descendants  of  Cain.  They  kill  brothers,  execute  saints, 
crucify  prophets.  And,  like  Cain,  God  has  stamped  upon  their  : 
faces  a  Sign — the  mysterious  sign  of  immortality.  They  can¬ 
not  be  killed  because  theirs  are  the  hands  which  must  kill.  The  ' 
fugitive  fratricide  was  saved  by  this  sign  among  early  men,  , 
and  the  murderous  Pharisees  will  be  saved  through  all  the  cen¬ 
turies  because  God  needs  them  for  the  high  works  of  His  ; 
justice  which  seems  foolishness  and  madness  to  the  eyes  of  1 
little-minded  men.  An  eternal  decree,  not  revealed  to  most  ! 
men,  decrees  death  and  the  most  atrocious  death  to  all  who 
would  be  like  God.  But  the  simple  man  could  never  assassinate 
a  saint,  nor  even  a  sinner,  a  miraculous  chrysalis  of  potential  ■ 
sanctity.  And  the  saint  would  no  longer  be  a  saint  if  he  took  i 
the  life  of  another  saint,  the  only  brother  given  him  by  the  ; 
Father.  So  the  indestructible  race  of  the  Pharisees  was  created 
for  all  centuries  and  for  all  peoples,  men  who  are  never  simple  i 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


257 


! 


j  like  children  and  who  never  know  the  way  of  salvation,  those 
i  who  are  not  visibly  sinners,  biit  who  are  from  head  to  foot  the 
)  incarnation  of  the  ugliest  sin,  those  who  wish  to  appear  saints 
I  and  who  hate  real  saints.  God  has  made  them  fitting  instru- 
3  ments  of  an  appalling  and  necessary  massacre,  to  play  the  part 
of  executioners  of  perfect  men.  Faithful  to  this  command,  in- 
1  vulnerable  as  inhabitants  of  Hell,  marked  like  Cain,  immortal 
as  hypocrisy  and  cruelty,  they  have  survived  all  the  empires 
and  all  the  overthrows  of  empire.  With  different  faces,  with 
!  different  garments,  with  different  rules  and  pretexts,  they  have 
covered  the  face  of  the  earth,  stubborn  and  prolific,  up  to  the 
present  day.  And  when  they  have  not  been  able  to  kill  with 
nails  and  with  fire,  with  axes  and  with  knives,  they  have  used 
tongue  and  pen  with  the  utmost  success. 

Jesus,  while  He  spoke  to  them  in  the  great  open  courtyard 
crowded  with  witnesses,  knew  that  He  spoke  to  His  Judges, 
and  to  those  who  would  be,  through  intermediate  persons,  the 
real  authors  of  His  death.  By  speaking  out  on  this  day.  He 
justified  His  later  silence  before  Caiaphas  and  Pilate.  He  had 
condemned  them  and  they  would  condemn  Him;  He  had 
judged  them  first  and  had  nothing  more  to  add  when  they 
wished  to  judge  Him. 

Images  of  death  came  to  His  lips  as  He  described  them  to 
themselves:  vipers  and  tombs,  treacherous  black  vipers,  which 
as  soon  as  you  approach  them  pour  into  your  blood  all  the 
poison  hidden  in  their  fangs.  Whited  sepulchers,  fair  without 
but  within  full  of  dead  men’s  bones  and  all  uncleanness. 

The  Pharisees  who  stood  before  Jesus,  and  all  those  who 
have  legitimately  descended  from  them,  are  glad  to  hide  them¬ 
selves  in  the  shadow  of  the  dead,  to  prepare  their  venom. 
Cold  as  a  snake’s  skin,  as  the  stone  of  a  tomb,  neither  the  heat 
of  the  sun,  nor  the  warmth  of  love,  nor  the  fires  of  Hell  can 
ever  warm  them.  They  know  all  the  words  save  one,  the  word 
of  Life. 

‘‘Woe  unto  you,  scribes  and  Pharisees,  hypocrites!  for  ye  are 
as  graves  which  appear  not,  and  the  men  that  walk  over  them 
I  are  not  aware  of  them.”  The  only  one  aware  of  this  was 
I  Jesus — and  it  was  because  of  this  that  He  was  not  to  remain 


258  LIFE  OF  CHRIST  | 

more  than  two  days  in  the  sepulcher  which  they  were  preparing! 
for  Him.  V 

f  t 

ONE  STONE  UPON  ANOTHER 

The  Thirteen  went  down  from  the  Temple  to  make  their 
daily  ascent  to  the  Mount  of  Olives.  One  of  the  Disciples 
(who  could  it  have  been? — perhaps  John,  son  of  Salome,  still  ' 
rather  childish  and  naively  full  of  wonder  at  what  he  saw? 
Or  Judas  Iscariot,  with  his  respect  for  wealth?)  said  to  Jesus, 
^^Master,  see  what  manner  of  stones  and  what  buildings  are 
here!” 

The  Master  turned  to  look  at  the  high  walls  faced  with  i 
marble  which  the  ostentatious  calculation  of  Herod  had  built  up  -i 
on  the  hill  and  said,  “Seest  thou  these  great  buildings?  there 
shall  not  be  left  one  stone  upon  another,  that  shall  not  be-: 
thrown  down.” 

The  admiring  exclamation  suddenly  died.  No  one  daredj 
answer,  but  perplexed  and  surprised,  each  of  them  continued! 
to  turn  over  in  his  mind  these  words.  Hard  words  for  the  ears’ *1 
of  those  carnal-minded  Jews,  for  the  narrow  hearts  of  those >i 
ambitious  provincials.  He  whom  they  loved  had  said  in  these 
last  days  many  other  hard  words,  hard  to  hear,  hard  to  under-  ■' 
stand,  hard  to  believe.  But  they  did  not  remember  any  other  ; 
words  so  hard  as  these.  They  knew  that  He  was  the  Christ  " 
and  that  He  was  to  suffer  and  die,  but  they  hoped  that  He  1 
would  rise  again  at  once  in  the  glorious  victory  of  the  new 
David,  to  give  abundance  to  all  Israel  and  to  award  the  greatest  - 
prizes  and  power  to  them,  faithful  to  Him  in  the  dangerous 
wanderings  of  His  poor  days.  But  if  the  world  was  to  be  com-  ■ 
manded  by  Judea,  Judea  was  to  be  commanded  by  Jerusalem,  ' 
and  the  seats  of  command  were  to  be  in  the  Temple  of  the 
great  King.  It  was  occupied  to-day  by  the  faithless  Sadducees, 
the  hypocritical  Pharisees,  the  traitorous  Scribes,  but  Christ  ^ 
was  to  drive  them  away  to  give  their  places  to  His  apostles. 
How  then  could  the  Temple  be  destroyed,  splendid  memorial 
of  the  kingdom  in  the  past;  hoped-for  rock  of  the  new  King-* 
dom?  Ili 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


259 


This  talk  of  stones  was  harder  than  a  stone  for  Simon  called 
i|  the  Rock  and  for  his  companions.  Had  not  John  the  Baptist 
said  that  God  could  change  the  stones  of  the  Jordan  into  sons 
of  Abraham?  Had  not  Satan  said  that  t^e  Son  of  God  could 
change  the  stones  of  the  desert  to  loaves  of  wheat  bread?  Had 
not  Jesus  Himself  said  while  He  w^as  passing  the  walls  of 
Jerusalem  that  those  very  stones,  in  place  of  men,  would  have 
shouted  out  greetings  and  sung  hymns?  And  was  it  not  He 
who  had  made  the  stones  fall  from  the  hands  of  His  enemies, 
the  stones  which  they  had  taken  up  to  kill  Him?  And  had  He 
jnot  made  them  fall  from  those  who  accused  the  adulteress? 

But  the  Disciples  could  not  understand  this  talk  about  the 
stones  of  the  Temple.  They  could  not  and  they  would  not  un¬ 
derstand  that  those  great  massive  stones,  quarried  out  pa¬ 
tiently  from  the  mountains,  drawn  from  afar  by  oxen, 
squared  and  prepared  by  chisels  and  mallets,  put  one  upon  an¬ 
other  by  masters  of  the  art  to  make  the  most  marvelous  Temple 
of  the  universe;  that  these  stones,  warm  and  brilliant  in  the 
sun,  should  be  torn  apart  once  more  and  pulverized  into 
ruins. 

They  had  scarcely  arrived  at  the  Mount  of  Olives,  and 
Christ  had  only  had  time  to  sit  down  opposite  to  the  Temple, 
when  their  curiosity  burst  out: 

“Tell  us,  when  shall  these  things  be?  and  what  shall  be 
the  sign  when  all  these  things  shall  be  fulfilled?’^ 

The  answer  was  the  discourse  on  the  Last  Things,  the  second 
Sermon  on  the  Mount.  At  the  beginning  of  His  work.  He  had 
explained  how  the  soul  must  be  transformed  to  found  the  King¬ 
dom;  now  at  death’s  door  He  taught  what  the  punishment  of 
the  stubborn  would  be  and  in  what  manner  He  would  come 
again. 

This  discourse,  less  understood  than  the  other,  and  even 
i||  more  forgotten,  is  not,  as  it  is  generally  believed,  the  answer 
i  i  to  one  question  only.  The  Disciples  had  put  two  questions, 
1||  “When  shall  these  things  be?”  That  is,  the  ruin  of  the  Tem- 
i  pie;  and  “What  shall  be  the  signs  of  Thy  coming?”  There  are 
!  two  answers  to  these  two  questions.  Jesus  first  describes  the 
events  which  will  precede  the  destruction  of  Jerusalem,  and 


200 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


then  He  describes  the  signs  of  His  second  appearance.  The 
prophetic  discourse^  although  it  is  read  all  in  one  piece  in  the 
Gospels,  had  two  parts.  The  prophecies  are  two,  quite  dis¬ 
tinct  from  each  other;  the  first  was  fulfilled  before  the  end  of 
Jesus’  generation,  about  forty  years  after  His  death.  The 
second  has  not  yet  been  fulfilled,  but  perhaps  before  the  pass¬ 
ing  of  our  own  generation  the  first  signs  will  be  seen. 


SHEEP  AND  GOATS 


Jesus  knew  the  weakness  of  the  Disciples,  weakness  of  the 
spirit,  and  perhaps  also  of  the  flesh,  and  Fie  puts  them  on  their 
guard  against  two  great  perils:  fraud  and  martyrdom. 

‘Take  heed  that  no  man  deceive  you.  For  many  shall  come 
in  my  name,  saying,  I  am  Christ,  and  shall  deceive  many. 
Then  if  any  man  shall  say  unto  you,  Lo,  here  is  Christ,  or 
there;  believe  it  not.  For  false  Christs  and  false  prophets; 
shall  rise  and  shall  shew  signs  and  wonders,  to  seduce,  if  it 
were  possible,  even  the  elect.  Go  not  after  them,  nor  follov. 
them.” 

But  although  they  are  to  flee  from  the  frauds  of  the  false 
Messiahs,  they  cannot  escape  the  persecutions  of  the  enemies 
of  the  real  Christ.  “Then  shall  they  deliver  you  up  to  be  af-l] 
flicted,  and  shall  kill  you:  and  ye  shall  be  hated  of  all  nations 
for  my  name’s  sake.  But  take  heed  to  yourselves:  for  thej 
shall  deliver  you  up  to  councils;  and  in  the  synagogues  y( 
shall  be  beaten:  and  ye  shall  be  brought  before  rulers  anc 
kings  for  my  sake,  for  a  testimony  against  them.  .  .  .  Novi 
the  brother  shall  betray  the  brother  to  death,  and  the  fathe, 
the  son;  and  the  children  shall  rise  up  against  their  parents 
and  shall  cause  them  to  be  put  to  death.  .  .  .  And  then  shal 
many  be  offended,  and  shall  betray  one  another,  and  shal 
hate  one  another  .  .  .  and  because  iniquity  shall  abound,  th 
love  of  many  shall  wax  cold.  But  he  that  shall  endure  to  th 
end,  the  same  shall  be  saved.” 

Then  shall  begin  the  signs  of  the  imminent  punishment 
“And  when  ye  shall  hear  of  wars  and  rumors  of  wars,  be  ye  no 
troubled:  for  such  things  must  needs  be;  but  the  end  shall  nc 


I 


f 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


261 


be  yet.  For  nation  shall  rise  against  nation,  and  kingdom 
I  against  kingdom:  and  there  shall  be  earthquakes  in  divers 
places,  and  there  shall  be  famines  and  troubles:  these  are  the 
t  beginnings  of  sorrow.” 

These  are  the  preliminary  warnings:  the  order  of  the  world 
shall  be  disturbed,  the  world,  peaceful  at  the  time  when  Christ 
pronounced  these  words,  shall  see  man  set  against  man,  nation 
against  nation,  and  the  earth  itself  soaked  with  blood  shall  rise 
against  men;  shall  tremble  under  their  steps;  shall  cast  down 
their  houses;  shall  vomit  out  ashes,  as  if  it  cast  out  from  the 
^  mouth  of  its  mountains  all  its  dead,  and  shall  deny  to  the 
n  fratricides  the  food  which  ripens  to  gold  every  summer  in  the 
fields. 

Then  when  all  this  shall  have  come  to  pass,  the  punishment 
Mwill  come  upon  those  people  who  would  not  be  born  again  in 
’^'Christ,  who  did  not  accept  the  Gospel;  on  the  city  which  nailed 
^|its  Lord  upon  Golgotha  and  persecuted  His  witnesses. 

‘‘And  when  ye  shall  see  Jerusalem  compassed  with  armies, 
Wthen  know  that  the  desolation  thereof  is  nigh.  But  when  ye 
lishall  see  the  abomination  of  desolation,  spoken  of  by  Daniel, 
3|the  prophet,  standing  where  it  ought  not,  (let  him  that  readeth 
understand,)  then  let  them  that  be  in  Judea  flee  to  the  moun- 
tains:  and  let  him  that  is  on  the  housetop  not  go  down  into  the 
house,  neither  enter  therein,  to  take  anything  out  of  his  house: 
sjjAnd  let  him  that  is  in  the  field  not  turn  back  again  for  to 
y|take  up  his  garment.  But  woe  to  them  that  are  with  child,  and 
“Ito  them  who  give  suck  in  those  days!  And  pray  ye  that  your 
TOight  be  not  in  winter.  For  in  those  days  shall  be  affliction, 
'f'Isuch  as  was  not  from  the  beginning  of  creation  which  God 
Created  unto  this  time,  neither  shall  be.  There  shall  be  great 
“Mistress  in  the  land,  and  wrath  upon  this  people.  And  they 
“Ibhall  fall  by  the  edge  of  the  sword,  and  shall  be  led  away  cap- 
ive  into  all  nations:  and  Jerusalem  shall  be  trodden  down  of 
e  Gentiles,  until  the  times  of  the  Gentiles  be  fulfilled.” 

This  is  the  end  of  the  first  prophecy.  Jerusalem  shall  be 
taken  and  destroyed  and  of  the  Temple,  defiled  by  the  abomi- 
ation  of  desolation,  there  shall  remain  not  one  stone  upon 
“ianother. 


202  LIFE  OF  CHRIST 

But  Jesus  has  not  said  all,  until  now  has  not  spoken  of  His 
second  coining. 

“Jerusalem  shall  be  trodden  down  of  the  Gentiles,  until  the 
times  ot  the  Gentiles  be  fulfilled.”  What  are  these  “tempi  dei 
Gentili,  tempora  nationum”?  The  words  of  the  Greek  texts 
express  it  with  greater  precision  than  the  other  languages: 
they  are  the  times  adapted  to,  fitting,  and  awaiting  the  Gen¬ 
tiles,  that  is,  those  in  which  the  non-Jews  shall  be  converted 
to  the  Gospel,  announced  to  the  Jews  before  all  others.  There¬ 
fore  that  real  end  shall  not  come  until  the  Gospel  has  been 
carried  into  all  nations,  until  the  Gentiles,  the  faithless  ones, 
tread  down  the  city  of  Jerusalem.  “And  this  gospel  of  the, 
kingdom  shall  be  preached  in  all  the  world  for  a  witness  unto 
all  nations;  and  then  shall  the  end  come.” 

The  second  coming  of  Christ  from  Heaven,  the  Parusia, 
will  be  the  end  of  this  world  and  the  beginning  of  the  true 
world,  the  eternal  kingdom.  The  end  of  Judea  was  announced 
by  signs  human  and  terrestrial;  this  other  end  will  be  preceded 
by  signs  divine  and  celestial.  “The  sun  shall  be  darkened,  and 
the  moon  shall  not  give  her  light.  And  the  stars  of  heaven  | 
shall  fall.  And  upon  the  earth  distress  of  nations,  with  per¬ 
plexity;  the  sea  and  the  waves  roaring;  Men’s  hearts  failing 
them  for  fear,  and  for  looking  after  these  things  which  are 
coming  on  the  earth  :  for  the  powers  of  heaven  shall  be  shaken. 
And  then  shall  appear  the  sign  of  the  Son  of  man  in  heaven: 
and  then  shall  all  the  tribes  of  the  earth  mourn,  and  they  shall 
see  the  Son  of  man  coming  in  the  clouds  of  heaven  with  power 
and  great  glory.” 

For  the  end  of  Jerusalem  only,  the  little  earth  was  troubled; 
but  for  this  universal  ending.  Heaven  itself  is  convulsed.  In 
the  great  sudden  blackness  only  the  roaring  of  water  will  be 
heard,  and  screams  of  terror.  It  is  the  Day  of  the  Lord,  the*^ 
day  of  God’s  wrath  described  in  their  times  by  Ezekiel,  Jere¬ 
miah,  Isaiah  and  Joel.  “The  day  of  the  Lord  is  at  hand,  and 
as  a  destruction  from  the  Almighty  shall  it  come.  A  day  of 
darkness  and  of  gloominess!  The  land  is  as  the  garden  of 
Eden  before  them,  and  behind  them  a  desolate  wilderness. 
The  people  shall  be  much  pained:  all  faces  shall  gather  black- 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


263 


i  ness.  Therefore  shall  all  hands  be  faint  and  every  man’s  heart 
;  shall  melt.  And  they  shall  be  afraid:  pangs  and  sorrow  shall 
:  take  hold  of  them;  they  shall  be  in  pain  as  a  woman  that 
Hravaileth;  they  shall  be  amazed  one  at  another.^  Behold  the 
jday  of  the  Lord  cometh,  cruel  both  with  wrath  and  fierce 
i anger,  to  lay  the  land  desolate:  and  he  shall  destroy  the  sin- 

Iners  thereof  out  of  it.  For  the  stars  of  heaven  and  the  con¬ 
stellations  thereof  shall  not  give  their  light:  the  heavens  shall 
be  rolled  together  as  a  scroll  :  and  all  their  host  shall  fall  down, 
•’  as  the  leaf  falleth  off  from  the  vine,  and  as  a  falling  fig  from 
sjthe  fig  tree.” 

f  ;  This  is  the  day  of  the  Father,  day  of  blackness  in  the  Heav- 
|,ens  and  of  terror  on  earth.  But  the  day  of  the  Son  follows 
immediately  after. 

He  does  not  appear  this  time  hidden  in  a  stable,  but  on 
high  in  Heaven,  no  longer  poor  and  wretched,  but  in  power  and 
plendor  of  glory.  ‘‘And  he  shall  send  his  angels  with  a 
reat  sound  of  a  trumpet,  and  they  shall  gather  together  his 
jelect  from  the  four  winds,  from  one  end  of  heaven  to  the 
Jother.”  And  when  the  celestial  trumpets  shall  have  awakened 
all  those  sleeping  in  the  tombs,  the  irrevocable  division  shall 
be  made. 

“When  the  Son  of  man  shall  come  in  his  glory,  and  all  the 


iflholy  angels  with  him,  then  shall  he  sit  upon  the  throne  of  his 
llglory: 

“And  before  him  shall  be  gathered  all  nations:  and  he  shall 
eparate  them  one  from  another,  as  a  shepherd  divideth  his 
|sheep  from,  the  goats: 

“And  he  shall  set  the  sheep  on  his  right  hand,  but  the  goats 
n  his  left. 

“Then  shall  the  King  say  unto  them  on  his  right  hand. 
Come,  ye  blessed  of  my  Father,  inherit  the  kingdom  prepared 
for  you  from  the  foundation  of  the  world: 

“For  I  was  an  hungered,  and  ye  gave  me  meat:  I  was  thirsty, 
and  ye  gave  me  drink:  I  was  a  stranger,  and  ye  took  me  in: 
“Naked,  and  ye  clothed  me:  I  was  sick,  and  ye  visited  me: 
was  in  prison,  and  ye  came  unto  me. 

“Then  shall  the  righteous  answer  him,  saying,  Lord,  when 


204  LIFE  OF  CHRIST 

saw  we  thee  an  hungered,  and  fed  thee?  or  thirsty,  and  gave 
thee  drink? 

“When  saw  we  thee  a  stranger,  and  took  thee  in?  or  naked, 
and  clothed  thee? 

“Or  when  saw  we  thee  sick,  or  in  prison,  and  came  unto 
thee? 

“And  the  King  shall  answer  and  say  unto  them.  Verily  I 
say  unto  you.  Inasmuch  as  ye  have  done  it  unto  one  of  the 
least  of  these  my  brethren,  ye  have  done  it  unto  me. 

“Then  shall  he  say  also  unto  them  on  the  left  hand.  Depart 
from  me,  ye  cursed,  into  everlasting  fire,  prepared  for  the 
devil  and  his  angels: 

“For  I  was  an  hungered,  and  ye  gave  me  no  meat:  I  was 
thirsty,  and  ye  gave  me  no  drink: 

“I  was  a  stranger,  and  ye  took  me  not  in:  naked,  and  ye 
clothed  me  not:  sick,  and  in  prison,  and  ye  visited  me  not. 

“Then  shall  they  also  answer  him,  saying.  Lord,  when  saw' 
we  thee  an  hungered,  or  athirst,  or  a  stranger,  or  naked,  or 
sick,  or  in  prison,  and  did  not  minister  unto  thee? 

“Then  shall  he  answer  them,  saying.  Verily  I  say  unto  you. 
Inasmuch  as  ye  did  it  not  to  one  of  the  least  of  these,  ye  did 
it  not  to  me. 

“And  these  shall  go  away  into  everlasting  punishment:  but' 
the  righteous  into  life  eternal.’’ 

Jesus,  even  in  His  glory  as  judge  of  the  last  Day,  does  not 
forget  the  poor  and  unhappy  whom  He  loved  so  greatly  during 
His  life  on  earth.  He  wishes  to  appear  as  one  of  those  “least’’ 
who  hold  out  their  hands  at  the  doors  and  on  whom  the  “great’’ 
look  down.  On  earth,  in  the  time  of  Tiberius,  He  was  the  ' 
man  who  was  hungering  for  bread  and  love,  thirsting  for  water 
and  martyrdom,  who  was  like  a  stranger  in  His  own  country j| 
not  recognized  by  His  own  brothers,  who  stripped  Himself  tc 
clothe  those  shaking  with  cold,  who  was  sick  with  sorrow  anóli 
suffering  and  no  one  comforted  Him,  who  was  imprisoned  ir 
the  base  prison  of  human  flesh,  in  the  narrow  prison  of  earthlj  ; 
life.  He  was  divinely  hungering  for  souls,  thirsting  for  faith  ' 
He  was  the  stranger  come  from  the  ineffable  fatherland,  de  ] 
fenseless  before  whips  and  insults,  the  Man  sick  with  the  hoi)  i 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


265 


madness  of  love.  But  on  that  great  Day  of  final  Judgment, 
He  will  not  be  thinking  of  Himself,  as  He  did  not  think  of 
Himself  when  He  was  a  man  among  men. 

The  code  of  this  dividing  of  good  from  evil  men  will  be  based 
on  one  idea  only:  Compassion — Charity.  During  all  the  time 
which  lies  between  His  first  and  second  coming  He  has  gone 
on  living  under  the  appearance  of  the  poor  and  the  pilgrims, 
of  the  sick  and  persecuted,  of  wanderers  and  slaves.  And  on 
the  Last  Day  He  pays  His  debts.  Mercy  shown  to  thpse 
“least”  was  shown  to  Him,  and  He  will  reward  that  mercy  in 
the  name  of  all.  Only  those  who  did  not  receive  Him  when 
He  appeared  in  the  innumerable  bodies  of  the  poverty-stricken 
will  be  condemned  to  eternal  punishment,  because  when  they 
drove  away  the  unfortunate  they  drove  away  God.  When  they 
refused  bread,  water  and  a  garment  to  the  poor  man,  they 
condemned  the  Son  of  God  to  cold,  thirst  and  hunger.  The 
Father  had  no  need  of  your  help,  for  all  is  His  and  He  loves 
you  even  during  the  moments  when  you  curse  Him.  But  you 
must  love  the  Father  in  the  persons  of  His  children.  And 
those  who  did  not  quench  the  thirst  of  the  thirsty  will  them¬ 
selves  thirst  for  all  eternity;  those  who  did  not  warm  the 
naked  man  will  suffer  in  fire  for  all  eternity;  those  who  did 
not  comfort  the  prisoner  will  be  prisoners  of  Hell  forever; 
those  who  did  not  receive  the  stranger  will  never  be  received 
in  Heaven,  and  those  who  did  not  help  the  fever-stricken  pa¬ 
tient  will  shiver  in  the  spasms  of  everlasting  fever. 

The  Great  Poor  Man  in  the  day  of  His  glory  will,  as  justice 
dictates,  reward  every  one  with  His  infinite  riches.  He  who 
has  given  a  little  life  to  the  poor  will  have  life  forever;  he  who 
has  left  the  poor  in  pain  will  himself  be  in  pain  forever.  And 
then  the  bare  sky  will  be  peopled  with  other  more  powerful 
suns,  with  stars  flaming  more  brightly  in  the  heavens  and  there 
will  be  a  new  Heaven  and  a  new  Earth,  and  the  Chosen  will 
live  not  as  we  live  now,  like  beasts,  but  in  the  likeness  of 
angels. 


206 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


WORDS  WHICH  SHALL  NOT  PASS  AWAY  j 

But  when  shall  these  things  come  to  pass?  These  are  the 
signs,  this  is  the  manner  in  which  it  shall  happen.  But  the 
time?  Shall  we  be  still  here,  we  who  are  now  under  the  light 
of  the  sun?  Or  shall  the  grandchildren  of  our  grandchildren 
see  tliese  events  while  we  are  dust  and  ashes  under  the  earth? 

Up  to  the  very  last,  the  Twelve  understand  as  little  as  twelve 
stones.  They  have  the  truth  before  them  and  they  do  not 
see  it:  they  have  the  Light  in  their  midst  and  the  Light  does 
not  reach  them.  If  only  they  had  been  among  stones  like 
diamonds  which  send  back,  divided  into  reflected  rays,  the 
light  which  strikes  them.  But  these  twelve  men  are  rough 
stones,  scarcely  dug  out  of  the  darkness  of  the  quarry,  dull 
stones,  opaque  stones,  stones  which  the  sun  can  warm  but  not 
kindle,  stones  which  are  lighted  from  without  but  do  not  re¬ 
flect  the  splendor.  They  have  not  yet  understood  that  Jesus 
is  not  a  common  diviner,  a  student  of  the  Chaldeans  and  of  the 
Etruscans,  and  that  He  has  nothing  to  do  with  the  presumptu¬ 
ous  pretensions  of  astrology.  They  have  not  understood  that 
a  definitely  dated  prophecy  would  not  work  on  men  to  create 
a  conversion  which  needs  perpetual  vigilance.  Perhaps  they 
have  not  even  understood  that  the  Apocalyptic  sayings  re¬ 
vealed  on  the  Mount  of  Olives  form  a  double  prophecy  which 
refers  to  two  events,  different  and  distant  from  each  other. 
Perhaps  these  provincial  fishermen,  for  whom  a  lake  was  the  ^ 
sea  and  Judea  was  the  universe,  confused  the  end  of  the  | 
Hebrew  people  v^^ith  the  end  of  the  human  race,  the  punish-  j 
ment  of  Jerusalem  with  the  second  coming  of  Christ.  | 

But  the  discourse  of  Jesus,  although  it  is  presented  as  one  j 
unit  in  the  synoptic  Gospels,  shows  us  two  distinct  prophecies.  i|j 

The  first  announces  the  end  of  the  Jewish  kingdom,  the  pun-  ' 
ishment  of  Jerusalem,  the  destruction  of  the  Temple;  the  sec-  i 
ond  the  end  of  the  old  world,  the  reappearance  of  Jesus,  the  ■ 
judgment  of  the  merciful  and  of  the  merciless,  the  beginning  j; 
of  the  New  Kingdom.  The  first  prophecy  given  is  close  at  j 
hand — this  generation  shall  not  pass  before  these  things  shall  ! 
have  arrived — and  is  local  and  limited,  since  it  is  concerned  i 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


267 

only  with  Judea  and  especially  with  Judea’s  metropolis.  The 
hour  and  the  day  of  the  second  are  not  known  because  certain 
events,  slow  to  take  place  but  essential,  must  precede  this  end, 
which,  unlike  the  other,  will  be  universal. 

The  first,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  was  fulfilled  to  the  letter,  detail 
by  detail,  about  forty  years  after  the  crucifixion,  while  many 
who  had  known  Jesus  were  still  living;  the  second  coming,  the 
triumphal  Parusia,  is  still  awaited  by  those  who  believe  what 
He  said  on  that  day,  ^‘Heaven  and  earth  shall  pass  away:  but 
my  words  shall  not  pass  away.” 

A  few  years  after  Jesus’  death  the  signs  of  the  first  prophecy 
began  to  be  seen.  False  prophets,  false  Christs,  false  apostles, 
swarmed  in  Judea,  as  snakes  come  out  of  their  holes  when  dog- 
days  arrive.  Before  Pontius  Pilate  was  exiled,  an  impostor 
showed  himself  in  Samaria,  who  promised  to  recover  the  sacred 
vessels  of  the  Tabernacle  hidden  by  Moses  on  Mount  Gerizim. 
The  Samaritans  believed  that  such  a  discovery  would  be  the 
prelude  to  the  coming  of  the  Messiah,  and  a  great  mob  gath¬ 
ered  threateningly  on  the  mountain  until  it  was  dispersed  by 
Roman  swords. 

Under  Cuspius  Fadus,  the  procurator  who  governed  from 
44  to  66,  there  arose  a  certain  Theudas,  who  gave  himself  out 
for  a  great  personage  and  promised  great  prodigies.  Four 
hundred  men  followed  him,  but  he  was  captured  and  decapi¬ 
tated,  and  those  who  had  believed  him  dispersed.  After  him 
^  came  an  Egyptian  Jew,  who  succeeded  in  gathering  four  thou¬ 
sand  desperate  men,  and  camping  on  the  Mount  of  Olives  an¬ 
nouncing  that  at  a  sign  from  him  the  walls  of  Jerusalem  would 
fall.  The  Procurator  Felix  attacked  him  and  drove  him  out 
into  the  desert. 

In  the  meantime,  in  Samaria,  arose  the  notorious  Simon 
Magus,  he  who  bewitched  people  with  his  prodigies  and  in¬ 
cantations  and  announced  himself  as  the  Power  of  God.  This 
man,  seeing  the  miracles  of  Peter,  wished  to  turn  Christian,  im¬ 
agining  that  the  Gospel  was  only  one  of  those  Oriental  mys¬ 
teries  into  which  an  initiation  gave  new  powers.  Repelled  by 
Peter,  Magus  became  the  father  of  heresies.  Fie  believed  that 
Enncea  first  came  from  God  and  that  it  is  now  imprisoned  in 


268 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


I 


human  beings:  according  to  him  Ennoea  (or,  the  first  concep-  • 
tion  of  the  Deity),  was  incarnate  in  Helen  of  Tyre,  a  prosti-  | 
tute  who  followed  him  everywhere;  and  faith  in  him  and  in 
Helen  was  a  necessary  condition  of  salvation.  Cerinthus,  the 
first  Gnostic,  was  one  of  his  followers,  against  whom  John  j 
wrote  his  Gospel — and  Menander,  who  boasted  that  he  was 
Saviour  of  the  world.  Another  Elxai  mixed  up  the  old  and  new 
Covenant,  told  stories  of  many  incarnations  besides  those  of  ; 
Christ,  and  swaggered  about  with  his  followers,  boasting  of 
his  magic  powers.  Hegesippus  says  that  a  certain  Tebutis  • 
through  jealousy  of  Simon,  second  Bishop  of  Jerusalem, 
formed  a  sect  that  recognized  Jesus  as  Messiah,  but  in  i; 
everything  else  was  faithful  to  the  old  Judaism.  Paul,  in  the  ■ 
Epistle  to  Timothy,  puts  the  ^^Saints’’  on  guard  against  Hy¬ 
men  eus,  and  Phyletus  and  Alexander.  For  such  are  false  ' 
prophets,  deceitful  workers  transforming  themselves  into  the  * 
apostles  of  Christ,  ‘^who  twisted  truth  and  sowed  the  evil  seed  i 
of  heresy  in  the  early  church.”  A  Dositheus  had  himself  called 
Christ,  and  a  certain  Nicholas  began  with  his  errors  the  sect  of  '' 
the  Nicolaitans,  condemned  by  John  in  the  Apocalypse:  and 
the  Zealots  fomented  incessant  tumults,  claiming  that  the  Ro-  ■ 
mans  and  all  the  heathen  should  be  driven  out  in  order  that  f 
God  might  return  to  triumph  with  His  own  people. 

The  second  sign,  the  persecution,  arrived  promptly.  The  : 
Disciples  had  scarcely  begun  to  preach  the  Gospel  in  Jerusalem  ' 
when  Peter  and  John  were  thrown  into  prison:  freed,  they 
were  captured  again,  and  beaten  and  commanded  to  speak  no  : 
more  in  the  name  of  Jesus.  Stephen,  one  of  the  most  ardent  i 
of  the  neophytes,  was  taken  by  the  priests  outside  the  city 
and  stoned. 

Under  the  rule  of  Agrippa  the  tribulations  began  afresh.  In  : 
42  Herod’s  descendant  had  James  the  Greater,  the  brother  of  t 
John,  killed  by  the  sword;  and  for  a  third  time  Peter  was  im¬ 
prisoned.  In  62  James  the  righteous,  called  the  brother  of  : 
Our  Lord,  was  thrown  from  the  terrace  of  the  Temple  and 
killed.  In  50  Claudius  exiled  the  Christian  Jews  from  Rome; 
‘‘Impulsore  Chrestus  tumultuantes.”  In  58,  on  account  of  the  1 
conversion  of  Pomponia  Grsecina,  the  war  against  converts  be-  j 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


269 


I 


gan  in  the  capital  of  the  Empire.  In  64  the  burning  of  Rome, 
desired  and  executed  by  Nero,  was  the  pretext  for  the  first 
great  persecution.  An  innumerable  multitude  of  Christians 
obtained  their  martyrdom  in  Rome  and  in  the  Provinces. 
Many  were  crucified:  others  wrapped  in  the  “tunica  molesta” 
lighted  up  the  nocturnal  amusement  of  the  Caesar:  others 
wrapped  in  animal  skins  were  given  as  food  to  dogs:  many,  en¬ 
forced  actors  in  cruel  comedies,  made  a  spectacle  for  amphi¬ 
theaters  and  were  devoured  by  lions.  Peter  died  on  the  cross, 
nailed  head  downward.  Paul  ended  under  the  ax  a  life 
which  since  his  conversion  had  been  one  long  torment.  Ten 
years  before  his  death  in  57  he  had  been  flogged  five  times 
by  the  Jews,  beaten  three  times  with  rods  by  the  Romans,  three 
times  imprisoned,  three  times  shipwrecked,  stoned  and  left 
for  dead  at  Lystra.  The  greater  part  of  the  other  Disciples 
met  with  similar  fates.  Thomas  met  a  martyr’s  death  in  India, 
Andrew  was  crucified  at  Patras,  Bartholomew  was  crucified  in 
Armenia.  Simon  the  Zealot  and  Matthew,  like  their  Master, 
ended  their  lives  on  the  cross. 

Nor  were  there  lacking  wars  and  rumors  of  wars.  When 
Jesus  was  killed,  the  “peace  of  Augustus”  still  existed,  but  very 
soon  nations  rise  against  nations  and  kingdoms  against  king¬ 
doms.  Under  Nero  the  Britons  rebel  and  massacre  the  Romans, 
the  Parthians  revolt  and  force  the  legions  to  pass  under  the 
yoke;  Armenia  and  Syria  murmur  against  foreign  government; 
Gaul  rises  with  Julius  Vindex,  Nero  is  near  his  end,  the  Spanish 
and  Gallic  legions  proclaim  Galba  Emperor;  Nero,  fleeing  from 
the  Golden  House,  succeeds  in  being  abject  even  in  suicide. 
Galba  enters  Rome,  but  brings  no  peace;  Nymphidius  Sabinus 
at  Rome,  Capito  in  Germany,  Clodius  Macer  in  Africa,  dispute 
the  power  with  him.  All  are  dissatisfied  with  him:  on  the  15th 
of  January,  69,  the  Praetorians  kill  him  and  proclaim  Otho. 
But  the  German  legions  had  already  proclaimed  Vitellius  and 
move  on  Rome.  Conquered  at  Bedriacum  Otho  commits  sui¬ 
cide,  but  Vitellius  does  not  rule  long  either;  the  Syrian  legions 
choose  Vespasian,  who  sends  Antonius  Primus  into  Italy.  The 
followers  of  Vitellius  are  defeated  at  Cremona  and  at  Rome; 
Vitellius,  the  voracious  hog,  is  killed  on  the  20th  of  December, 


!l 


270 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


69.  In  the  meanwhile  insurrection  breaks  out  in  the  north, 
v/ith  the  Batavians,  v/ith  Claudius  Civilus,  and  the  insurrec¬ 
tion  of  the  Jews  is  not  stamped  out  in  the  east.  In  less  than^ 
two  years  Italy  is  invaded  twice,  Rome  taken  twice,  two  Em¬ 
perors  kill  themselves;  two  are  killed.  And  there  are  wars 
and  rumors  of  wars  on  the  Rhine  and  on  the  Danube,  on  the 
Po  and  on  the  Tiber,  on  the  banks  of  the  North  Sea,  at  the  feet 
of  Atlas  and  of  Tabor. 

The  other  afflictions  announced  by  Jesus  accompany  in 
these  years  the  upheaval  of  the  Empire.  Caligula  the  Mad 
complained  because  in  his  reign  nothing  horrible  happened: 
he  desired  famines,  pestilences  and  earthquakes.  The  degen-  ; 
erate  and  incestuous  epileptic  did  not  have  his  wish,  but  in  ! 
the  time  of  Claudius  a  series  of  poor  crops  brought  famine  even 
to  Rome.  Under  Nero  pestilence  v/as  added  to  the  famine,  and 
at  Rome  alone  in  one  autumn  the  treasury  of -Venus  Libitina 
registered  thirty  thousand  deaths. 

In  61  and  62  earthquakes  shook  Asia,  Achaia,  and  Mace¬ 
donia:  especially  the  cities  of  Hierapolis,  Laodicea  and  Colos- 
sse  were  greatly  damaged.  In  63  it  was  Italy’s  turn:  at  Naples, 
Nocera  and  Pompeii  the  earth  shook.  All  the  Campagna  was 
a  prey  to  terror.  And  as  if  this  were  not  enough,  three  years 
later,  in  66,  the  Campagna  was  devastated  by  cloudbursts, 
which  destroyed  the  crops  and  rendered  more  threatening  the 
prospects  of  famine.  And  while  Galba  was  entering  Rome 
(68)  the  earth  shook  under  his  feet  with  a  terrible  roar.  All 
the  signs  were  fulfilled:  now  had  come  the  fullness  of  time  for 
the  punishment  of  Judea. 

JUDEA  OVERCOME  | 

i 

The  earthquake  which  shook  Jerusalem  on  the  Friday  of  | 
Golgotha  was  like  a  signal  for  the  Jewish  outbreak.  For  forty  ^ 
years  the  country  of  the  god-killers  had  no  peace,  not  even  the  ] 
peace  of  defeat  and  slavery,  up  to  the  day,  when  of  the  Temple 
not  one  stone  was  left  upon  another.  1 

Pilate,  Cuspius  Fadus  and  Agrippa  had  been  forced  to  dis-  jj 
perse  the  bands  of  the  false  Messiahs.  Under  the  Roman  | 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


271 


)  procurator^  Tiberius  Alexander,  the  conflict  began  with  the 
raging  sect  of  the  Zealots  and  ended  with  the  crucifixion  of 
the  leaders,  James  and  Simon,  sons  of  Judas  the  Galilean.  The 
procurator,  Ventidius  Cumanus,  48-52,  did  not  have  a  day’s 
peace:  the  Zealots  and  their  allies,  the  Sicarii,  did  not  lay 
down  their  arms.  Under  the  procurator  Felix  the  disorders 
knew  no  truce:  under  Albinus  the  flames  of  the  revolt  flared 
out  more  boldly.  Finally  at  the  time  of  Gessius  Florus,  64-66, 
the  last  procurator  of  Judea,  the  fire,  which  for  some  time  had 
been  flickering,  spread  all  over  the  country.  The  Zealots  took 
possession  of  the  Temple:  Florus  was  obliged  to  flee.  Agrippa, 
who  went  as  peace-maker,  was  stoned,  Jerusalem  fell  into  the 
power  of  Menahem,  another  son  of  Judas  the  Galilean. 
Zealots  and  Sicarii  now  in  power  massacred  the  non- Jews  and 
also  those  among  the  Jews  who  seemed  tepid  to  their  fanatic 
eyes. 

And  then  finally  came  the  abomination  predicted  by  Daniel 
and  recorded  by  Christ.  The  prophecy  of  Daniel  had  already 
been  fulfilled  when  Antiochus  IV  Epiphanes  had  profaned 
the  Temple  by  placing  there  the  statue  of  Olympian  Jove.  In 
39  Caligula  the  Mad,  who  had  set  himself  up  as  God  and  nad 
himself  adored  as  God  in  various  places,  had  sent  the  order  to 
the  procurator  Petronius  to  put  the  imperial  statue  in  the 
Temple,  but  he  died  before  the  order  was  executed.  But 
Jesus  was  alluding  to  something  quite  other  than  statues.  The 
holy  place  during  the  great  rebellion  occupied  by  the  Sicarii 
had  become  a  refuge  for  assassins,  and  the  great  courts  were 
soaked  with  blood,  even  with  priestly  blood.  And  the  Holy 
City  underwent  also  the  abomination  of  desolation,  when  in 
December  of  66  Cestius  Gallus,  at  the  head  of  forty  thousand 
men,  came  to  crush  the  insurgents,  camped  around  Jerusalem 
I  with  those  imperial  insignia  which  the  Jews  held  in  horror  as 
Ji!  idolatrous,  and  which  through  a  concession  of  the  Emperors 

I  had  not  till  then  been  introduced  into  the  city, 
j  But  Cestius  Gallus,  finding  more  resistance  than  he  had  an¬ 
ticipated,  retreated  and  the  retreat  was  turned  into  flight  to 
I  the  great  jubilation  of  the  Zealots,  who  saw  in  this  victory  a 
j!  sign  of  divine  help. 

si 

'll 

: 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


272 

In  those  days,  between  the  first  and  second  assault,  when 
already  the  double  abomination  had  contaminated  the  city,  the 
Christians  of  Jerusalem,  obeying  the  prophecy  of  Jesus,  fled 
to  Pela,  beyond  the  Jordan  But  Rome  had  no  intention  of 
giving  way  to  the  Jews.  The  command  of  the  punitive  expedi¬ 
tion  was  given  to  Titus  Flavius  Vespasian,  who,  gathering  an 
army  at  Ptolemais  in  67,  advanced  against  Galilee  and  con¬ 
quered  it.  While  the  Romans  were  taking  up  winter  quarters, 
John  of  Gischala,  one  of  the  heads  of  the  Zealots,  having  taken 
refuge  in  Jerusalem  at  the  head  of  a  band  of  Idumeans,  over¬ 
turned  the  aristocratic  government  and  the  city  was  full  of  up¬ 
roar  and  blood. 

Vespasian,  going  to  Rome  to  become  Emperor,  gave  the  ' 
command  to  his  son  Titus,  who  on  Easter  Day  in  the  year 
70,  came  up  before  Jerusalem  and  began  the  siege.  Horrible 
days  began.  Even  at  the  height  of  danger,  the  Zealots,  car-  • 
ried  away  by  wild  frenzy,  quarreled  among  themselves,  and 
split  up  into  factions,  who  fought  for  the  control  of  the  city.  ' 

John  of  Gischala  occupied  the  Temple,  Simon  Bar  Giora  | 
the  city,  and  their  partisans  cut  the  throats  of  those  whom  the  i 
Romans  had  not  yet  killed.  In  the  meantime  Titus  had  taken 
possession  of  two  lines  of  wall  and  of  a  part  of  the  city:  on 
the  fifth  of  July  the  Tower  of  Antonia  fell  into  his  power. 
To  the  horror  of  fratricidal  massacre  and  of  the  siege  was 
added  that  of  hunger.  The  famine  was  so  great  that  mothers 
were  seen,  so  says  Josephus,  to  kill  their  children  and  eat 
them.  On  the  loth  of  August  the  Temple  was  taken  and 
burned,  the  Zealots  succeeding  in  shutting  themselves  up  into 
the  upper  city,  but  conquered  by  hunger  they  were  obliged  ’ 
to  surrender  on  the  7th  of  September. 

The  prophecies  of  Jesus  had  been  fulfilled:  the  city  by  ; 
Titus^  order  was  laid  waste:  and  of  the  Temple  already  swept  1 
by  fire,  there  remained  not  one  stone  upon  another.  The  Jews 
who  had  survived  hunger  and  the  swords  of  the  Sicarii  were 
massacred  by  the  victorious  soldiery.  Those  who  still  re¬ 
mained  were  deported  into  Egypt  to  work  in  mines,  and  many 
were  killed  for  the  amusement  of  the  crowd  in  the  Amphithea¬ 
ters  of  Caesarea  and  Berytus.  Some  hundreds  of  the  handsom-  : 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


273 


li 

Ir 


P- 


est  were  taken  prisoners  to  Rome  to  figure  in  the  triumphal  pro¬ 
cession  of  Vespasian  and  Titus,  and  there  Simon  Bar  Giora  and 
other  heads  of  the  Zealots  were  executed  before  the  idols  which 
they  hated. 

^‘Verily  I  say  unto  you,  This  generation  shall  not  pass,  till 
all  these  things  be  fulfilled.”  It  was  the  seventieth  year  of  the 
Christian  era  and  His  generation  had  not  yet  gone  down  into 
the  tomb  when  these  things  happened.  One  at  least  of  those 
who  heard  Him  on  the  Mount  of  Olives,  John,  was  witness  of 
the  destruction  of  Jerusalem  and  of  the  ruin  of  the  Temple. 
Within  the  destined  time  the  words  of  Jesus  were  fulfilled, 
syllable  by  syllable,  with  atrocious  exactness,  by  a  story  of 
blood  and  fire. 


ic . 


i 


It 


THE  PARUSIA 

The  end  of  the  god-killing  people,  the  partial  and  local  end¬ 
ing,  had  taken  place.  According  to  the  sentence  of  Christ,  the 
statues  of  the  Temple  were  scattered  among  the  ruined  walls 
and  the  faithful  of  the  Temple  had  met  their  death  by  torture 
or  were  scattered  among  other  nations. 

The  second  prophecy  is  left.  When  shall  the  Son  of  Man 
come  on  the  clouds  of  Heaven,  preceded  by  darkness,  an¬ 
nounced  by  angels^  trumpets?  Jesus  says  that  no  one  can  be 
sure  of  the  day  of  His  coming.  The  Son  of  Man  is  likened  to 
lightning  which  flashes  suddenly  in  the  east,  to  a  thief  who 
comes  by  stealth  in  the  night,  to  a  master  who  has  gone  far 
away  and  returns  suddenly  to  take  his  servants  by  surprise. 
We  must  be  vigilant  and  ready.  Purify  your  hearts,  be¬ 
cause  you  do  not  know  when  He  may  come;  and  woe  to  him 
who  is  not  ready  to  appear  before  Him.  Take  heed  to  your¬ 
selves  lest  at  any  time  your  hearts  be  overcharged  with  sur¬ 
feiting,  and  drunkenness,  and  the  cares  of  this  life;  and  so  that 
day  come  upon  you  unawares,  for  as  a  snare  shall  it  come  upon 
all  them  that  dwell  on  the  face  of  the  whole  earth. 

But  if  Jesus  does  not  announce  the  day.  He  tells  us  what 
things  must  be  fulfilled  before  that  day.  These  things  are  two  : 
the  Gospel  of  the  Kingdom  shall  be  preached  to  all  the  na- 


274 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


tions  and  the  Gentiles  shall  no  longer  tread  down  Jerusalem. 
These  two  conditions  are  fulfilled  in  our  own  time  and  per¬ 
haps  the  great  day  approaches.  There  are  no  longer  in  the 
world  any  civilized  nations  or  barbarous  tribes  where  the  de¬ 
scendants  of  the  Apostles  have  not  preached  the  Gospel:  since 
1918  the  Moslems  have  no  longer  trodden  down  Jerusalem 
and  there  is  talk  of  a  reestablishment  of  the  Jewish  State.  Ac¬ 
cording  to  the  words  of  Hosea,  the  end  of  the  time  shall  be’ 
near  when  the  sons  of  Israel,  left  so  long  without  altar  and 
v/ithout  King,  shall  be  converted  to  the  Son  of  David  and  shall 
turn,  trembling,  towards  God’s  goodness.  > 

If  the  words  of  the  second  prophecy  are  true,  as  the  words 
of  the  first  prophecy  were  shown  to  be  true,  the  Second  Com¬ 
ing  cannot  be  far  distant.  Once  again  in  these  years  nations 
have  risen  against  nations,  the  earth  has  quaked,  destroying 
many  lives,  and  pestilences,  famines  and  seditions  have  deci¬ 
mated  nations.  For  more  than  a  century  the  words  of  Christ 
have  been  translated  and  preached  in  all  languages.  Soldiers 
who  believe  in  Christ,  although  they  are  not  all  faithful  to  the  a 
heirs  of  Peter,  are  in  command  over  that  city,  which  after  its 
downfall  was  in  the  power  of  the  Romans,  the  Persians,  the; 
Egyptians  and  the  Turks.  And  still  men  do  not  think  of  Jesus  ; 
and  His  promise.  They  live  as  if  the  world  were  always  go¬ 
ing  to  continue  as  it  has  been,  and  they  work  and  mortify  • 
themselves  only  for  their  earthly  and  carnal  interests. 

‘Tor  as  in  the  days  that%ere  before  the  flood,  they  were- 
eating  and  drinking,  marrying  and  given  in  marriage,  until  the  - 
day  that  Noah  entered  into  the  ark.  And  knew  not  until  the 
flood  came,  and  took  them  all  away:  so  shall  also  the  coming  of 
the  Son  of  man  be.  Likewise  also,  as  it  was  in  the  days  of 
Lot;  they  did  eat,  they  drank,  they  bought,  they  sold,  theyj 
planted,  they  builded;  But  the  same  day  that  Lot  went  out  of^ 
Sodom  it  rained  fire  and  brimstone  from  heaven  and  destroyed 
them  all.  Even  thus  shall  it  be  in  the  day  when  the  Son  of 
man  is  revealed.” 

The  same  thing  happens  in  our  day  in  spite  of  the  wars  and 
the  pestilences  which  have  cut  down  millions  of  lives  in  a  few 
years.  People  eat  and  drink,  marry  and  have  children,  buy  ^ 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


275 


l  and  sell,  write  and  play.  And  no  one  thinks  of  the  Divine 
I  rhief  who  will  come  suddenly  in  the  night,  no  one  waits  for 
the  Real  Master,  who  will  return  unexpectedly,  no  one  looks  at 
the  sky  to  see  if  lightning  is  flashing  from  the  east. 

The  apparent  life  of  the  living  is  like  the  delirious  dream  of 
;  a  fatal  fever.  They  seem  awake  because  they  hurry  about 
'  without  rest,  occupied  by  those  possessions  which  are  clay  and 
!  poison.  They  never  look  up  to  Heaven — they  fear  only  their 
;  brothers.  Perhaps  they  are  waiting  to  be  awakened  in  the  last 
hour  by  those  dead  of  old,  who  will  rise  up  at  the  approach  of 
the  Resurrected  Christ. 

UNWELCOME 


While  Jesus  was  condemning  the  Temple  and  Jerusalem, 
those  maintained  by  the  Temple  and  the  lords  of  Jerusalem 
were  preparing  His  condemnation. 

i  All  those  who  possessed,  taught  and  commanded  were  wait¬ 
ing  onl)/  for  the  right  moment  to  assassinate  Him,  without  dan¬ 
ger  to  themselves.  Every  man  who  had  a  name,  dignity,  a 
school,  a  shop,  a  sacred  office,  a  little  authority  was  against 
Him.  Fie  came  to  oppose  them  and  they  opposed  Him.  With 
fthe  idiocy  natural  to  those  in  power  they  believed  that  they 
Ivould  save  themselves  by  putting  Him  to  death,  and  they  did 
hot  know  it  was  exactly  His  death  which  was  needed  as  the 
beginning  of  their  punishment. 

i  To  have  an  idea  of  the  hatred  which  the  upper  classes  of 
Jerusalem  felt  towards  Jesus,  priestly  hatred,  scholastic  hatred 
knd  commercial  hatred,  we  must  remember  that  the  Holy  City 
Apparently  lived  by  faith,  but  in  reality  on  the  Faithful.  Only 
n  the  Jewish  metropolis  could  valid  and  acceptable  offerings 
e  made  to  the  Old  God,  and  therefore  every  year,  especially 
n  great  feast  days,  streams  of  Israelites  poured  in  there  from 
i|he  Tetrarchates  of  Palestine  and  from  all  the  provinces  of  the 
Empire.  The  Temple  was  not  only  the  one  legitimate  sanctu¬ 
ary  of  the  Jews,  but  for  those  who  were  attached  to  it  and  for 
all  the  others  who  lived  at  its  feet,  it  was  the  great  nourishing 
breast  which  fed  the  Capital  with  the  products  of  the  victims. 


276 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


the  offerings,  the  tithes  and,  above  all,  with  the  profits  ac¬ 
companying  the  continual  influx  of  visitors.  Josephus  say* 
that  at  Jerusalem  on  special  occasions  there  were  gathered  to 
gether  as  many  as  three  million  pilgrims. 

The  stationary  population  depended  all  the  year  round  or 
the  Temple:  business  for  the  animal-sellers,  dealers  in  victuals 
money-changers,  inn-keepers,  and  even  artisans  depended  or 
the  fortunes  of  the  Temple.  The  priestly  caste,  which  withou 
the  Levites  (and  there  were  a  great  crowd  of  them)  numberec 
in  Christ’s  lifetime  twenty  thousand  descendants  of  Aaron — go^ 
their  living  from  the  tithes  in  kind,  from  the  taxes  of  th( 
Temple,  from  the  payments  for  the  first-born — even  the  first 
born  of  men  paid  five  shekels  a  head! — and  got  their  foo(| 
from  the  flesh  of  the  sacrificial  animals,  of  which  only  the  fail 
was  burned.  They  were  the  ones  who  had  the  pick  of  herd: 
and  crops;  even  their  bread  was  given  them  by  the  people 
for  the  head  of  every  Jewish  family  was  obliged  to  hand  ove: 
to  the  priests  the  twenty-fourth  part  of  the  bread  which  wa; 
baked  in  his  house.  Many  of  them,  as  we  have  seen,  madi 
money  on  the  raising  of  the  animals  which  the  Faithful  weri 
obliged  to  buy  for  their  offerings;  others  were  associated  witl 
money-changers,  and  it  is  not  impossible  that  some  of  then 
were  really  bankers,  because  people  readily  deposited  thei 
savings  in  the  strong-boxes  of  the  Temple. 

A  net-work  of  self-interest  thus  bound  to  the  Herodiar 
edifice  all  the  inhabitants  of  Jerusalem,  down  to  the  vendors  a 
fairs  and  the  sandal-makers.  The  priests  lived  on  the  Templd 
and  many  of  them  were  merchants  and  rich  men:  the  rid 
needed  the  Temple  to  increase  their  profits  and  keep  the  com 
mon  people  respectful:  the  merchants  did  business  with  the 
rich  people  who  had  money  to  spend,  with  the  priests  who  were, 
their  associates  and  with  the  pilgrims  from  every  part  of  the, 
world  drawn  towards  the  Temple:  the  working  men  and  th( 
poor  lived  from  the  scraps  and  leavings  which  fell  from  the 
tables  of  the  rich,  the  priests,  the  merchants  and  the  pilgrims. 

Religion  w^as  thus  the  greatest  and  perhaps  the  only  busines^j 
in  Jerusalem:  any  one  who  attacked  religion,  its  representatives 
its  visible  monument  (which  was  the  most  famous  and  fruitful 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


277 


seat  of  religion),  was  necessarily  considered  an  enemy  of  the 
people  of  Jerusalem,  and  especially  of  the  prosperous  and 
well-to-do. 

Jesus  with  His  Gospel  threatened  directly  the  positions  and 
‘fees  of  these  classes.  If  all  the  prescriptions  of  the  Law  were 
to  be  reduced  to  the  practice  of  love,  there  would  be  no  more 
Iplace  for  the  Scribes  and  Doctors  of  the  Law  who  made  their 
living  out  of  their  teachings.  If  God  did  not  wish  animal  sac¬ 
rifices  and  asked  only  for  purity  of  soul  and  secret  prayer,  the 
priests  might  as  well  shut  the  doors  of  the  Sanctuary  and  learn 
a  new  profession:  those  who  did  business  in  oxen  and  calves 
and  sheep  and  lambs  and  kids  and  doves  and  sparrows  would 
have  seen  their  business  slacken  and  perhaps  disappear.  If  to 
be  loved  by  God  you  needed  to  transform  your  life,  if  it  were 
not  enough  to  wash  your  drinking-cups  and  punctually  pay 
your  tithes,  the  doctrine  and  the  authorit}^  of  the  Pharisees 
would  be  reduced  to  nothing.  If  in  short  the  Messiah  had 
borne  and  had  declared  the  Primacy  of  the  Temple  fallen  and 
sacrifices  useless,  the  capital  of  the  cult  would,  from  one  day 
10  the  next,  have  lost  its  prestige  and  with  the  passage  of  time 
Would  have  become  an  obscure  settlement  of  impoverished 
bien. 

^  As  a  matter  of  course,  Jesus,  who  preferred  fishermen,  if 
they  were  pure  and  loving,  to  members  of  the  Sanhedrin;  who 
iook  the  part  of  the  poor  against  the  rich,  who  valued  ignorant 
bhildren  more  than  Scribes,  blear-eyed  over  the  mysteries  of  the 
Scriptures,  drew  down  on  His  head  the  hatred  of  the  Levites, 
the  merchants  and  the  Doctors.  The  Temple,  the  Academy 
and  the  Bank  were  against  Him:  when  the  victim  was  .ready 
ihey  would  call  the  somewhat  reluctant,  but  nevertheless  ac- 
“quiescent  Roman  sword,  to  sacrifice  Him  to  their  peace  of 
mind. 

For  some  time  the  life  of  Jesus  had  not  been  safe.  The 
Pharisees  said  that  Herod  had  sought  to  kill  Him  from  the 
“  days  of  His  last  sojourn  in  Galilee.  Perhaps  it  was  the  knowl- 
^  bdge  of  this  that  sent  Him  into  Caesarea  Philippi,  outside  Gali- 
lee,  where  He  predicted  His  passion. 

^  When  He  came  back  to  Jerusalem  the  High  Priests,  the 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


278 

Pharisees  and  the  Scribes  gathered  about  Him  to  lay  traps  for 
Him  and  take  dovm  His  words.  The  uneasy  and  embittered 
crowd  set  on  His  track  spies,  destined  to  become  false  wit¬ 
nesses  in  a  few  days.  If  we  are  to  believe  John,  the  order  was 
given  to  certain  guards  to  capture  Him,  but  they  were  afraid 
to  lay  their  hands  upon  Him.  The  attack  with  the  whips  on 
the  animal-sellers  and  money-changers,  the  loud  invectives 
against  the  Scribes  and  Pharisees,  the  allusion  to  the  ruin  of 
the  Temple,  made  the  cup  run  over.  Time  pressed;  Jerusalem 
was  full  of  foreigners  and  many  were  listening  to  Him.  Some 
disorder,  some  confusion  might  easily  spring  up,  perhaps  an  up¬ 
rising  of  the  provincial  crowds  who  were  less  attached  to  the 
privileges  and  interests  of  the  metropolis.  The  contagion  must 
be  stopped  at  the  beginning  and  there  seemed  to  be  no  better 
way  than  to  make  away  with  the  blasphemer.  The  wolves  of 
the  Altar  and  of  business  arranged  a  meeting  of  the  Sanhedrin 
to  reconcile  law  with  assassination. 

THE  HIGH  PRIEST  CAIAPHAS 

The  Sanhedrin  was  the  assembly  of  the  chiefs,  the  supreme 
council  of  the  aristocracy  which  ruled  the  capital.  It  was  com¬ 
posed  of  the  priests  jealous  of  the  clientele  of  the  Temple 
which  gave  them  their  power  and  their  stipends:  of  the  Scribes 
responsible  for  preserving  the  purity  of  the  law  and  of  tradi¬ 
tion:  of  the  Elders  who  represented  the  interests  of  the  mod¬ 
erate,  moneyed  middle-class. 

They  were  all  in  accord  that  it  was  essential  to  take  Jesus  on 
false  pretenses  and  to  have  Him  killed  as  a  blasphemer  against 
the  Sabbath  and  the  Lord.  Only  Nicodemus  attempted  a  de¬ 
fense,  but  they  were  able  quickly  to  silence  him.  “What  do 
we?  for  this  man  doeth  many  miracles.  If  we  let  him  thus 
alone,  all  men  will  believe  on  him:  and  the  Rom.ans  shall  come 
and  take  away  both  our  place  and  nation.”  It  is  the  Rea-j 
son  of  State,  the  Salvation  of  the  Fatherland  which  political^ 
cliques  always  bring  out  to  screen  v/ith  legality  and  ideality 
the  defense  of  their  particular  profit. 

Caiaphas,  who  that  year  was  High  Priest,  settled  their 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


279 


:  ioubts  with  the  maxim  which  has  always  justified  in  the  eyes 
•],)f  the  world  the  immolation  of  the  innocent.  “Ye  know  noth- 
ng  at  all  nor  consider  that  it  is  expedient  that  one  man  should 
j  lie  for  the  people  and  that  the  whole  nation  perish  not.”  This 
jnaxim  in  Caiaphas’  mouth,  and  on  this  occasion,  and  for  what 
1 1  meant,  was  infamous,  and  hypocritical  like  all  the  speeches 
§  nade  by  the  Sanhedrin.  But  transposed  into  a  higher  mean- 
:  ng  and  transferred  into  the  Absolute,  changing  nation  into 
lumanity,  the  President  of  the  circumcised  patriciate  was  ex- 
^ bounding  a  principle  which  Jesus  Himself  had  accepted  and 
^tvhich  has  become  under  another  form  the  crucial  mystery  of 
f  Christianity.  Caiaphas  did  not  know — he  who  had  to  enter 
[  done  into  the  Holy  of  Holies  to  offer  up  to  Jehovah  the  sins 
^i)f  the  people — how  much  his  words,  coarse  in  expression  and 
ipynical  in  sentiment  as  they  were,  were  in  accord  with  his 
victim’s  thought. 

The  thought  that  only  the  righteous  can  pay  for  injustice, 
Mt  only  the  perfect  can  discount  the  crimes  of  the  brute,  that 
l^nly  the  pure  can  cancel  the  debts  of  the  ignoble,  that  only 
l&od  in  His  infinite  magnificence  can  expiate  the  sins  which 
an  has  committed  against  Him  ;  this  thought,  which  seems  to 
tian  the  height  of  madness  exactly  because  it  is  the  height  of 
lilivine  wisdom,  certainly  did  not  flash  out  in  the  corrupt  soul 
ip  the  Sadducee  when  he  threw  to  his  sixty  accomplices  the 
lophism  destined  to  silence  their  last  remorse.  Caiaphas,  who 
|iiOgether  with  the  crown  of  thorns  and  the  sponge  of  vinegar 
mas  to  be  one  of  the  instruments  of  the  Passion,  did  not  im- 
jigine  in  that  moment  that  he  v/as  bearing  witness  solemnly, 
jjhough  involuntarily,  to  the  divine  tragedy  about  to  begin. 

I  And  yet  the  principle  that  the  innocent  can  pay  for  the 
jijuilty,  that  the  death  of  one  man  can  be  salvation  for  all,  was 
lot  foreign  to  the  consciousness  of  ancient  peoples.  The 
leroic  myths  of  the  pagans  recognize  and  celebrate  voluntary 
tacrifices  of  the  innocent.  They  record  the  example  of  Pilades, 
vho  offered  himself  to  be  punished  in  place  of  the  guilty 
Jrestes;  Macaria  of  the  blood  of  Heracles,  who  saved  her 
brother’s  life  with  her  own;  Alcestis,  who  died  that  she  might 
lljivert  from  her  Admetus  the  vengeance  of  Artemis;  the 


200 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


daughters  of  Erechtheus,  who  sacrificed  themselves  that  their 
father  might  escape  Neptune’s  blows.  The  old  King  Codrus, 
who  threw  himself  into  the  Ilissus,  in  order  that  his  Athenians 
might  be  victorious;  and  Decius  Mus  and  his  sons,  who  con¬ 
secrated  themselves  to  the  Manes  that  the  Romans  might  tri¬ 
umph  over  the  Samnites;  and  Curtius,  who,  fully  armed,  cast 
himself  into  the  gulf  for  the  salvation  of  his  country;  and 
Iphigenia,  who  offered  her  throat  to  the  knife  that  Agamem¬ 
non’s  fleet  might  sail  safely  towards  Troy.  At  Athens  during 
the  Thargelian  feast  two  men  were  killed  to  save  the  city 
from  divine  wrath;  Epimenides  the  Wise,  to  purify  Athens, 
profaned  by  the  assassination  of  the  followers  of  Cylon,  had 
recourse  to  human  sacrifice  over  the  tombs;  at  Curium,  in 
Cyprus,  at  Terracina,  at  Marseilles,  every  year  a  man  thre^v 
himself  into  the  sea  as  payment  for  the  crimes  of  the  com¬ 
munity,  a  man  regarded  as  the  Saviour  of  the  people. 

But  these  sacrifices,  when  they  were  spontaneous,  were  for 
the  salvation  of  one  being  alone,  or  of  a  restricted  group  of 
men;  when  they  were  enforced  they  added  a  new  crime  to 
those  they  were  intended  to  expiate;  they  were  examples  of 
individual  affection  or  of  superstitious  crimes. 

No  man  had  yet  appeared  who  would  take  upon  his  head 
all  the  sins  of  men,  a  God  who  would  imprison  Himself  in  the 
abject  wretchedness  of  flesh  to  save  all  the  human  race  and  to 
give  it  the  power  to  ascend  from  bestiality  to  sanctity, 
from  earthly  humiliation  to  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven.  The 
perfect  man,  who  takes  upon  himself  all  imperfections,  the 
pure  man  who  burdens  himself  with  all  infamies,  the  righteous 
man  who  shoulders  the  unrighteousness  of  all  men,  had  ap¬ 
peared  under  the  aspect  of  a  poor  fugitive  from  justice  in  the 
day  of  Caiaphas.  He  who  was  to  die  for  ail,  the  Galilean  work¬ 
ing-man  who  was  disquieting  the  rich  and  the  priests  of  Jerusa¬ 
lem,  was  there  on  the  Mount  of  Olives  only  a  short  distance 
from  the  Sanhedrin.  The  Seventy,  who  knew  not  what  they 
did,  who  did  not  know  that  they  were  obeying  the  will  of 
the  very  man  they  were  persecuting,  decided  to  have  Him 
captured  before  the  Passover;  but  because  they  were  cowardly, 
like  all  men  of  possessions,  one  thing  restrained  them,  the  fear 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


281 


i  of  the  people  who  loved  Jesus.  They  consulted  that  they 
1  might  take  Jesus  by  subtlety  and  kill  Him.  But  they  said, 

.  ‘‘Not  on  the  feast  day  lest  there  be  an  uproar  among  the 
people.”  To  solve  their  difficulty,  by  good  fortune,  there  came 
to  them  the  day  after  one  of  the  Twelve,  he  who  held  the 
:  purse,  Judas  Iscariot. 

THE  MYSTERY  OF  JUDAS 

Only  two  creatures  in  the  world  knew  the  secret  of  Judas: 
Christ  and  the  traitor. 

Sixty  generations  of  Christians  have  racked  their  brains 
over  it,  but  the  man  of  Iscariot,  although  he  has  drawn  after 
him  crowds  of  disciples,  remains  stubbornly  incomprehensible. 

•  His  is  the  only  human  mystery  that  we  encounter  in  the  Gos¬ 
pels.  We  can  understand  without  difficulty  the  depravity  of 
'  Herod,  the  rancor  of  the  Pharisees,  the  revengeful  anger  of 
li  Annas  and  Caiaphas,  the  cowardly  laxity  of  Pilate.  But  we 
'  have  no  evidence  to  enable  us  to  understand  the  abomination 
■  of  Judas.  The  Four  Gospels  tell  us  too  little  of  him  and 
of  the  reasons  which  induced  him  to  sell  his  King. 

'  “Then  entered  Satan  into  Judas.”  But  these  words  are 
'  only  the  definition  of  his  crime.  Evil  took  possession  of  his 
'  heart,  therefore  it  came  suddenly.  Before  that  day,  perhaps 
during  the  dinner  at  Bethany,  Judas  was  not  in  the  power  of 
the  Adversary.  But  why  suddenly  did  he  throw  himself  into 
'  that  power?  Why  did  Satan  enter  into  him  and  not  into  one 
of  the  others? 

I  Thirty  pieces  of  silver  are  a  very  small  sum,  especially  for 
I  an  avaricious  man.  In  modern  coinage  it  would  amount  to 
about  twenty  dollars,  and,  granting  that  its  effective  value  or 
I  as  the  economists  say  its  buying  power  were  in  those  days  ten 
times  greater,  two  hundred  dollars  seem  hardly  a  sufficient 
'  price  to  induce  a  man  whom  his  companions  describe  as  grasp- 
I  ing  to  commit  the  basest  perfidy  recorded  by  history.  It  has 
been  said  the  thirty  pieces  of  silver  was  the  price  of  a  slave. 
But  the  text  of  Exodus  states  on  the  contrary  that  thirty 
shekels  was  the  compensation  to  be  paid  by  the  owner  of  an 


202 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


ox  which  had  injured  a  slave.  The  cases  are  too  far  apart 
for  the  doctors  of  the  Sanhedrin  to  have  had  this  early  prece¬ 
dent  in  mind. 

The  most  significant  indication  is  the  office  which  Judas  held 
among  the  Twelve.  Among  them  was  Matthew,  a  former  tax- 
collector,  and  it  would  have  seemed  almost  his  right  to  handle 
the  small  amount  of  money  necessary  for  the  expenses  of  the 
brotherhood.  In  place  of  Matthew,  we  see  the  man  of  Iscariot 
as  the  depository  of  the  offerings.  Money  is  insidious  and 
saturated  with  danger.  The  mere  handling  of  money,  even 
if  it  belongs  to  others,  is  poisonous.  It  is  not  surprising  that 
John  said  of  Judas  the  thief,  that  he,  ‘‘having  the  bag,  took 
away  what  was  put  therein.”  And  yet  it  is  not  probable  that 
a  man  greedy  for  money  would  have  stayed  a  long  time  with 
a  group  of  such  poor  men.  If  he  had  wished  to  steal,  he 
would  have  sought  out  a  more  promising  position.  And  if 
he  had  needed  those  miserable  thirty  pieces  of  silver,  could 
he  not  have  procured  them  in  another  way,  by  running  away  : 
with  the  purse,  without  needing  to  propose  the  betrayal  of  1 
Jesus  to  the  High  Priests? 

These  common-sense  reflections  about  a  crime  so  extraordi-  i 
nary  have  induced  many  to  seek  other  motives  for  the  infamous 
transaction.  A  sect  of  heretics,  the  Cainites,  had  a  legend  that 
Judas  sorrowfully  accepted  eternal  infamy,  knowing  that  Jesus 
through  His  will  and  the  will  of  the  Father  was  to  be  be¬ 
trayed  to  His  death,  that  no  suffering  might  be  lacking  in  the 
great  expiation.  A  necessary  and  voluntary  instrument  of  the 
Redemption,  Judas  was  according  to  them  a  hero  and  a  martyr 
to  be  revered  and  not  reviled. 

According  to  others,  Iscariot,  loving  his  people  and  hoping 
for  their  deliverance,  perhaps  sharing  the  sentiments  of  the 
Zealots,  had  joined  with  Jesus,  hoping  that  he  was  the  Messiah 
such  as  the  common  people  then  imagined  Him:  the  King  of 
the  revenge  and  restoration  of  Israel.  When  little  by  little, 
in  spite  of  his  slowness  of  comprehension,  it  dawned  on  him  ' 
from  the  words  of  Jesus  that  he  had  fallen  in  with  a  Messiah  » 
of  quite  another  kind,  he  delivered  Him  over  to  His  enemies  ■ 
to  make  up  for  the  bitterness  of  his  disappointment.  But  this  « 


! 

, 


fancy  to  which  no  text  either  canonical  or  apocryphal  gives 
any  support  is  not  enough  to  explain  Christ’s  betrayer:  he 
could  have  deserted  the  Twelve  and  gone  in  search  of  other 
company  more  to  his  taste,  which  certainly,  as  we  have  seen, 
was  not  lacking  at  that  time. 

Others  have  said  that  the  reason  is  to  be  sought  in  his  loss 
of  faith.  Judas  had  believed  firmly  in  Jesus,  and  then  could 
believe  no  longer.  What  Jesus  said  about  His  end  close  at 
hand,  the  threatening  hostility  of  the  metropolis,  the  delay 
of  his  victorious  manifestation,  had  ended  by  causing  Judas  to 
lose  all  faith  in  Him  whom  he  had  followed  up  till  then.  He 
did  not  see  the  Kingdom  approaching  and  he  did  see  death 
approaching.  Mingling  with  the  people  to  find  out  the  tem¬ 
per  of  the  day,  he  had  perhaps  heard  a  rumor  as  to  the  de¬ 
cisions  of  the  meeting  of  the  Elders  and  feared  that  the  San¬ 
hedrin  would  not  be  satisfied  with  one  victim  alone,  but  would 
condemn  all  those  who  had  long  followed  Jesus.  Overcome 
by  fear — the  form  which  Satan  took  to  enter  into  him — he 
thought  he  could  ward  off  the  danger  and  save  his  life  by 
treachery;  unbelief  and  cowardice  being  thus  the  ignominious 
motives  of  his  ignominy. 

An  Englishman  celebrated  as  an  opium-eater,  has  thought 
out  a  new  apology  for  the  traitor  which  is  the  opposite  of  this 
theory.  His  idea  is  that  Judas  believed:  he  even  believed  too 
absolutely.  He  was  so  persuaded  that  Jesus  was  really  the 
Christ  that  he  wished  by  giving  Him  up  to  the  Tribunal  to 
force  Him  finally  to  show  Himself  as  the  legitimate  Messiah. 
So  strong  was  his  hope  that  he  could  not  believe  that  Jesus 
would  be  killed.  Or  if  He  really  were  to  die,  he  knew  with 
entire  certainty  that  Eie  would  rise  again  at  once  to  sit  on 
the  right  hand  of  the  Father  as  King  of  Israel  and  of  the  world. 
To  hasten  the  great  day,  in  which  the  Disciples  were  at  last 
to  have  the  reward  for  their  faithfulness,  Judas,  secure  in  the 
intangibility  of  his  Divine  Friend,  wished  to  force  His  hand 
and,  putting  Him  face  to  face  with  those  whom  Eie  was  to 
cast  out,  to  compel  Him  to  show  Himself  as  the  true  Son 
of  God.  According  to  this  theory  the  action  of  Judas  was  not 
a  betrayal  but  a  mistake  due  to  his  misunderstanding  of  the 


284 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


real  meaning  of  his  Master’s  teaching.  He  did  not  betray 
therefore  through  avarice  or  revengefulness  or  cowardice,  but 
through  stupidity. 

On  the  other  hand  others  give  revenge  as  the  reason.  No 
man  betrays  another  without  hating  him.  Why  did  Judas 
hate  Jesus?  They  remember  the  dinner  in  the  house  of  Simon 
and  the  nard  of  the  weeping  woman.  The  reproof  for  his 
stinginess  and  hypocrisy  must  have  exasperated  the  disciple 
who  perhaps  had  been  reproved  for  these  faults  on  other  oc¬ 
casions.  To  the  rancor  of  this  rebuff  was  added  envy  which 
always  flourishes  in  vulgar  souls.  And  as  soon  as  he  could  re¬ 
venge  himself  without  danger,  he  went  to  the  palace  of 
Caiaphas. 

But  did  he  really  think  that  his  denunciation  would  bring 
Jesus  to  His  death  or  did  he  rather  suppose  that  they  would 
content  themselves  with  flogging  Him  and  forbidding  Him 
to  speak  to  the  people?  The  rest  of  the  story  seems  to  show 
that  the  condemnation  of  Jesus  unnerved  him  as  a  terrible 
and  unexpected  result  of  his  kiss.  Matthew  describes  his  de¬ 
spair  in  a  way  to  show  that  he  was  sincerely  horrified  by  what 
had  happened  through  his  fault.  The  money  which  he  had 
pocketed  became  like  fire  to  him  :  and  when  the  priests  refused 
to  take  it  back  he  threw  it  down  in  the  Temple.  Even  after 
this  restitution  he  had  no  peace  and  hastened  to  kill  himself. 
He  died  on  the  same  day  as  his  victim.  Luke  in  the  Acts 
sets  down  in  another  way  the  evil  end  of  Judas,  but  the  Chris¬ 
tian  tradition  prefers  the  story  of  his  remorse  and  suicide. 

In  spite  of  all  the  unraveling  of  unsatisfied  minds,  mys¬ 
teries  are  still  tangled  about  the  mystery  of  Judas.  But  we 
have  not  yet  invoked  the  testimony  of  Him  who  knew  better 
than  all  men,  even  better  than  Judas,  the  true  secret  of  the 
betrayal.  Jesus  alone  could  give  us  the  key  to  the  mystery; 
Jesus  who  saw  into  the  heart  of  Judas  as  into  the  hearts 
of  all  men,  and  who  knew  what  Judas  was  to  do  before  he 
had  done  it. 

Jesus  chose  Judas  to  be  one  of  the  Twelve  and  to  carry  the 
gospel  to  the  world  along  with  the  others.  Would  He  have 
chosen  him,  kept  him  with  Him,  beside  Him,  at  His  table. 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


285 


for  so  long  a  time  if  Fie  had  believed  him  to  be  an  incurable 
criminal?  Would  He  have  confided  to  him  what  was  dearest 
in  the  world  to  Him,  the  most  precious  thing  in  the  world — the 
prophecy  of  the  Kingdom  of  God? 

Up  to  the  last  days,  up  to  that  last  evening,  Jesus  treated 
!  Judas  exactly  like  the  others.  To  him,  as  to  all  others,  He 
i  gave  His  body,  symbolized  by  bread,  His  soul,  symbolized 
i  by  wine.  He  washed  and  wiped,  with  His  own  hands,  the 
feet  of  Judas,  those  feet  which  had  carried  him  to  the  house 
of  Caiaphas — with  those  hands  which,  through  Judas’  fault, 
were  to  be  nailed  to  the  cross  on  the  following  day.  And 
when,  in  the  red  light  of  the  flickering  lanterns  and  the  flash¬ 
ing  of  swords,  Judas,  under  the  dark  shadow  of  the  olive 
trees,  came  and  kissed  that  face  still  wet  with  bloody  sweat, 

I  Jesus  did  not  repel  him,  but  said,  ‘Triend,  wherefore  art  thou 
i  come?” 

Friend!  It  was  the  last  time  that  Jesus  spoke  to  Judas,  and 
even  in  that  moment  He  would  use  none  other  than  that 
j  wonted  word.  Judas  was  not  for  Him  the  man  of  darkness 
j  who  came  in  the  darkness  to  turn  Him  over  to  the  guards,  but 
the  friend,  the  same  who  a  few  hours  before  had  been  sitting 
I  with  Him  before  the  dish  of  lamb  and  herbs,  and  had  set  his 
I  lips  to  His  cup:  the  same  who,  so  many  times  in  hours  of 
^  rest  in  leafy  shade,  or  in  the  shadow  of  walls,  had  listened 
'  with  the  others  like  a  disciple,  like  a  companion,  like  a  friend, 
[  like  a  brother,  to  the  great  words  of  the  Promise.  Jesus  had 
j  said  at  the  Last  Supper,  “Woe  unto  that  man  by  whom  the 
;  Son  of  man  is  betrayed!  it  had  been  good  for  that  man  if  he 
j  had  not  been  born.”  But  now  that  the  traitor  was  before 
I  Him,  that  the  treachery  was  complete,  now  that  Judas  had 
j  added  to  that  betrayal  the  outrage  of  the  kiss  laid  on  the  lips 
i  !  of  Him  who  has  commanded  love  for  our  enemies.  He  ansv^rered 
y  him  with  the  sweet  and  divine  words  of  their  habitual  inter- 
course,  “Friend,  wherefore  art  thou  come?” 
j  Thus  the  testimony  of  Him  who  was  betrayed  increases  our 
[5  bewilderment  instead  of  raising  the  veil  of  the  dreadful  secret. 

He  knew  that  Judas  was  a  thief  and  He  gave  him  the  purse: 

1  He  knew  that  Judas  was  evil  and  He  confided  to  him  a  treasure 


286 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


of  truth  infinitely  more  precious  than  all  the  money  in  the 
universe:  He  knew  that  Judas  was  to  betray  Him  and  He  made 
him  a  participant  of  His  divinity,  offering  him  the  mouthful 
of  bread  and  the  sip  of  wine;  He  saw  Judas  leading  His  assail¬ 
ants  upon  Him  and  He  still  addressed  him  as  at  first,  as  He 
always  had,  with  the  holy  name  of  friend. 

“It  had  been  good  for  that  man'  if  he  had  not  been  born.” 
These  VN^ords  might  have  been,  rather  than  a  condemnation, 
an  exclamation  of  pity  at  the  thought  of  a  fate  which  could  not 
be  escaped.  If  Judas  hated  Jesus,  we  see  no  signs  that  Jesus 
was  ever  repelled  by  Judas,  because  Jesus  knew  that  the  base 
bargain  was  necessary,  as  the  weakness  of  Pilate  was  necessary, 
the  rage  of  Caiaphas,  the  insults  of  the  soldiery,  the  timbers 
and  nails  of  the  cross.  He  knew  that  Judas  must  needs  do 
what  he  did  and  He  did  not  curse  him,  as  He  did  not  curse 
the  people  who  wished  His  death,  or  the  hammer  which  drove 
the  nails  into  the  cross.  One  prayer  alone  broke  from  him, 
to  beg  Judas  to  shorten  the  dreadful  agony,  “That  thou  doest, 
do  quickly.” 

The  mystery  of  Judas  is  doubly  tied  to  the  mystery  of  the 
Redemption  and  we  lesser  ones  shall  never  solve  it. 

No  analogy  can  give  us  light.  Joseph  also  was  sold  by  one 
of  his  brothers,  who,  like  Iscariot,  was  called  Judas,  and  was 
sold  to  Ishmaelite  merchants  for  twenty  pieces  of  silver,  but 
Joseph,  who  prefigured  Christ,  was  not  sold  to  his  enemies, 
was  not  sold  to  be  put  to  death:  and  as  a  compensation  for 
his  betrayal,  great  good  fortune  was  his  and  he  became  so 
wealthy  that  he  could  enrich  his  father,  and  so  generous  that 
he  could  pardon  even  his  brothers. 

Jesus  was  not  only  betrayed,  but  sold,  sold  for  a  price,  sold 
for  a  small  price,  bought  with  coins.  He  was  the  object  of 
a  bargain,  a  bargain  struck  and  paid.  Judas,  the  man  of  the 
purse,  the  cashier,  did  not  present  himself  as  an  accuser,  did 
not  offer  himself  as  a  cut-throat,  but  as  a  merchant  doing 
business  in  blood.  The  Jews,  who  understood  bartering  for 
blood,  daily  cutting  the  throats  of  victims,  and  quartering 
them,  butchers  of  the  Most  High,  v/ere  the  first  and  last  cus¬ 
tomers  of  Judas.  The  sale  of  Jesus  was  the  first  business 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


287 


done  by  the  merchant,  just  entering  business;  not  very  big 
business,  it  must  be  admitted,  but  a  real,  true  commercial 
transaction,  a  valid  contract  of  buying  and  selling,  verbal,  but 
honestly  lived  up  to  by  the  contracting  parties.  If  Jesus  had 
not  been  sold,  something  would  have  been  lacking  to  the  per¬ 
fect  ignominy  of  His  expiation:  if  He  had  been  sold  for  more 
money,  for  three  hundred  shekels  instead  of  thirty,  for  gold 
instead  of  silver,  the  ignominy  would  have  been  diminished, 
slightly,  but  still  diminished.  It  had  been  destined  to  all  eter¬ 
nity  that  He  should  be  bought,  but  bought  with  a  small  sum. 
In  order  that  an  infinite,  supernatural  but  communicable  value 
should  be  made  available  to  men,  it  was  needful  to  buy  it  with 
a  small  sum,  and  with  a  sum  of  metal,  which  has  no  real  value. 
Did  Jesus  bought  by  others  not  do  the  same.  He  who  wished 
to  redeem  with  the  blood  of  only  one  man  all  the  blood  shed 
on  the  earth  from  the  days  of  Cain  to  Caiaphas? 

And  if  He  had  been  sold  as  a  slave,  as  so  many  living  souls 
were  sold  in  those  days  in  the  public  places,  if  He  had  been 
sold  as  redeemable  property,  as  human  capital,  as  a  living  tool 
for  work,  the  ignominy  would  have  been  almost  nothing,  and 
the  Redemption  put  off.  But  He  was  sold  as  the  calf  is  sold 
to  the  butcher,  as  the  innocent  animals  which  the  butcher  buys 
to  kill,  to  sell  again,  to  distribute  in  morsels  to  flesh-eaters. 
The  sacred  butcher,  Caiaphas,  never  in  his  most  successful 
days  had  a  victim  so  prodigious.  For  more  than  two  thousand 
years  Christians  have  been  fed  on  that  victim,  and  it  is  still 
intact,  and  those  who  feed  are  not  satiated. 

Every  one  of  us  has  contributed  his  quota,  an  infinitesimal 
quota,  to  buy  that  victim  from  Judas.  We  have  all  contributed 
towards  the  sum  for  which  the  blood  of  the  Redeemer  was 
bought:  Caiaphas  was  only  our  agent.  The  field  of  Aceldama, 
bought  with  the  price  of  blood,  is  our  inheritance,  our  property. 
And  this  field  has  grown  mysteriously  larger,  has  spread  over 
half  the  face  of  the  earth:  whole  populous  cities,  paved,  lighted, 
well-ordered  cities,  of  shops  and  brothels, ishine»resplendent  on 
it  from  north  to  south.  And  that  the  mystery  should  be  even 
greater,  Judas’  money,  also  multiplied  by  the  betrayals  of  so 
many  centuries,  by  the  accumulation  of  interest,  has  become 


288 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


incalculably  great.  Nothing  is  so  fruitful  and  fecund  as  blood. 
The  statisticians,  those  soothsayers  of  modern  days,  can  bear 
witness  to  the  fact  that  all  the  courts  of  the  Temple  could 
not  contain  the  money  engendered  from  that  day  to  this 
by  those  thirty  pieces  of  silver  cast  down  there  in  a  delirium 
of  remorse,  by  the  man  who  sold  his  God. 

THE  MAN  ’WITH  THE  PITCHER 

The  bargain  was  struck,  the  price  paid,  the  buyers  were 
impatient  to  finish  the  transaction.  They  had  said  ^‘before  the 
Feast  day.”  The  great  feast  day  of  the  Passover  fell  on  a 
Saturday  and  this  was  Thursday. 

Jesus  had  but  one  more  day  of  freedom,  the  last  day. 

Before  leaving  His  friends,  those  who  were  to  abandon  Him 
that  night.  He  wished  once  more  to  dip  His  bread  in  the 
same  platter  with  them.  Before  the  Syrian  soldiery  should 
have  spit  upon  Him,  before  He  should  be  defiled  by  the  Jewish 
filth.  He  wished  to  kneel  down  and  wash  the  feet  of  those  who 
until  the  day  of  their  death  were  to  travel  all  the  roads  of  the 
earth  to  tell  the  story  of  His  death.  Before  the  blood  dropped 
from  His  hands.  His  feet.  His  chest.  He  wished  to  give  the 
first  fruits  to  those  who  were  to  be  one  soul  with  Him  until 
the  end.  Before  suffering  thirst,  nailed  upon  the  cross.  He 
wished  to  drink  a  cup  of  wine  with  His  companions.  This  last 
evening  before  His  death  was  to  be  like  an  anticipation  of  the 
banquet  of  the  Kingdom. 

On  the  evening  of  Thursday,  the  first  day  of  unleavened 
bread,  the  Disciples  asked  Him,  “Where  wilt  thou  that  we  go 
and  prepare  that  thou  mayest  eat  the  passover?” 

The  Son  of  Man,  poorer  than  the  foxes,  had  no  home  of 
His  own.  He  had  left  His  home  in  Nazareth  forever.  The 
home  of  Simon  of  Capernaum,  which  had  been  in  the  early 
days  like  His  own,  was  far  away;  and  the  home  of  Mary 
and  Martha  in  Bethany,  where  He  was  almost  Master,  was  too 
far  outside  the  city. 

He  had  only  enemies  in  Jerusalem  or  shame-faced  friends: 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


289 


_  oseph  of  Arimathea  was  to  receive  Him  as  his  guest  only  the 
ext  evening,  in  the  dark  cave,  the  banquet-hall  of  worms. 

But  a  condemned  man  on  his  last  day  has  a  right  to  any 
Eivor  he  may  ask.  All  the  houses  of  Jerusalem  were  rightfully 
lis.  The  Father  would  give  Him  the  house  best  suited  to 
.  belter  His  last  joy.  And  He  sent  two  Disciples  with  this 
lysterious  command,  “Go  ye  into  the  city,  and  there  shall 
leet  you  a  man  bearing  a  pitcher  of  water;  follow  him.  And 
wheresoever  he  shall  go  in,  say  ye  to  the  good  man  of  the 
lOUse,  the  Master  saith.  My  time  is  at  hand;  where  is  the 
uest  chamber,  where  I  shall  eat  the  passover  with  my  dis- 
iples?  And  he  will  show  you  a  large  upper  room  furnished 
nd  prepared:  there  make  ready  for  us.^’ 

It  has  been  believed  that  the  master  of  that  house  was  a 
riend  of  Jesus  and  that  they  had  arranged  this  beforehand. 
)Ut  that  cannot  be.  Jesus  would  have  sent  the  two  Disciples 
traight  to  him,  giving  his  name,  and  would  not  have  had  re- 
jourse  to  the  following  of  the  man  with  the  pitcher, 
i  There  were  many  men  on  the  morning  of  that  feast  day  who 
bust  have  been  coming  up  from  Shiloah  with  pitchers  of  water, 
'he  two  Disciples  were  to  follow  the  first  one  whom  they  saw 

iefore  them.  They  did  not  know  why  they  were  not  to  stop 
^  im  instead  of  going  after  him  to  see  where  he  went  in.  His 
baster,  since  he  had  a  servant,  certainly  was  not  a  poor  man, 
nd  in  his  house,  as  in  all  those  of  prosperous  people,  there 
rould  certainly  be  a  room  suitable  for  serving  a  supper,  and 
le  would  know  at  least  by  hearsay  who  “the  Master”  was. 
n  those  days  at  Jerusalem  there  was  little  talk  of  anything 
jlse.  The  request  was  one  which  could  not  be  refused.  “The 
daster  saith.  My  time  is  at  hand.”  The  time  which  was 
His”  was  the  hour  of  death.  No  one  could  shut  out  from  his 
liouse  a  man  at  the  point  of  death,  who  wished  to  satisfy  his 
|iunger  for  the  last  time.  The  Disciples  set  out,  found  the  man 
kith  the  pitcher,  entered  the  house,  talked  with  the  master, 
(repared  there  what  was  necessary  for  the  supper:  lamb  cooked 
|)n  the  spit,  round  loaves  without  leaven,  bitter  herbs,  red 
auce,  the  wine  of  thanksgiving,  and  warm  water.  They  set 


290 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


the  couches  and  pillows  about  the  table  and  spread  over  ii 
the  white  cloth.  On  the  cloth  they  set  the  few  dishes,  th( 
candelabra,  the  pitcher  full  of  wine,  and  one  cup,  one  cup  onlj 
to  which  ail  were  to  set  their  lips.  They  forgot  nothing:  boti 
were  experienced  in  this  preparation.  From  childhood  up,  ir 
their  home  beside  the  lake,  they  had  watched,  wide-eyed,  tht 
preparations  for  the  most  heart-warming  feast  of  the  year 
And  it  was  not  the  first  time  since  they  had  been  with  Hiir 
whom  they  loved,  that  they  had  thus  eaten  all  together  of  thf 
feast  of  the  Passover.  But  for  that  last  day — and  perhaps 
their  dull  minds  had  at  last  understood  the  dreadful  truth  thal 
it  was  really  the  last — for  this  last  supper  which  all  the  thirteer 
were  to  have  together,  for  this  Passover  which  was  the  Iasi 
for  Jesus  and  the  last  valid  Passover  for  old  Judaism  because 
a  new  covenant  was  about  to  begin  for  all  -countries  and  a! 
nations:  for  this  festal  banquet  which  was  a  memorial  of  life 
and  a  warning  of  death,  the  Disciples  performed  those  humble 
menial  tasks  with  a  new  tenderness,  with  that  pensive  jo> 
that  almost  brings  tears. 

With  the  setting  of  the  sun,  the  other  ten  came  with  Jesus 
and  placed  themselves  around  the  table,  now  in  readiness.  All 
were  silent  as  if  heavy-hearted  with  a  presentiment  which  the)/ 
were  afraid  to  see  reflected  in  their  companions^  eyes.  They 
remembered  the  supper  in  Simon’s  house,  almost  funereal 
the  odor  of  the  nard,  the  woman  and  her  endless  weeping,  and 
Christ’s  words  on  that  evening,  and  His  words  of  those  last 
days;  the  repeated  warnings  of  ignominy  and  of  the  end;  the 
signs  of  hatred  increasing  about  them,  and  the  indications,  now 
very  plain,  of  the  conspiracy,  which  with  all  its  torches  was 
about  to  come  out  from  the  darkness. 

But  two  of  them — for  opposite  reasons — were  more  op¬ 
pressed,  more  moved  than  the  others:  the  two  for  whom  this 
was  the  last  of  their  lives,  the  two  who  were  about  to  die: 
Christ  and  Judas,  the  one  sold  and  the  seller;  the  Son  of  God 
and  the  abortion  of  Satan. 

Judas  had  finished  his  bargain,  he  had  the  thirty  pieces  of 
silver  on  his  person  wrapped  tightly  so  that  they  would  not 
clink.  But  he  knew  no  peace.  The  Enemy  had  entered  into 


I 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


291 


|fi 


him,  but  perhaps  the  friend  of  Christ  was  not  yet  dead  in  his 
heart.  To  see  Him  there  in  the  midst  of  His  friends,  calm  but 
:  with  the  pensive  expression  of  the  man  who  is  the  only  one 
who  knows  a  secret,  who  is  aware  of  a  crime,  a  betrayal;  to  see 
Him,  still  at  liberty  in  the  company  of  those  who  loved  Him, 
still  alive,  all  the  blood  still  in  His  veins  under  the  delicate 
protection  of  the  skin — and  yet  those  bargainers  who  had  paid 
the  price  refused  to  wait  any  longer,  the  affair  was  arranged 
for  that  very  night! — and  they  were  only  waiting  for  Judas  to 
act.  But  suppose  Jesus,  who  must  know  all,  had  denounced 
him  to  the  eleven?  And  suppose  they,  to  save  their  Master, 
had  thrown  themselves  on  Judas  to  bind  him,  perhaps  to  kill 
him?  Judas  began  to  feel  that  to  betray  Christ  to  His  death 
was  perhaps  not  enough  to  save  himself  from  the  death,  which 
e  so  greatly  feared  and  yet  which  was  near  upon  him. 

I  All  these  thoughts  darkened  his  somber  face,  more  and  more 
blackly,  and  at  times  terrified  him.  While  the  more  active 
|)nes  busied  themselves  with  the  last  arrangements  for  serving 
the  supper,  he  looked  furtively  at  the  eyes  of  Jesus — clear 
yes  scarcely  veiled  with  the  loving  sadness  of  parting — as  if 
jj-to  read  there  the  revocation  of  his  fate,  so  close  at  hand.  Jesus 
roke  the  silence:  ^‘With  desire  I  have  desired  to  eat  this 
^assover  with  you  before  I  suffer:  For  I  say  unto  you,  I  will 
ot  any  more  eat  thereof,  until  it  be  fulfilled  in  the  kingdom 
bf  God.^’ 

Such  great  love  had  not  up  to  that  moment  been  expressed 
y  any  words  of  Christ  to  His  friends:  such  a  longing  for 
he  day  of  perfect  union,  for  the  feast,  so  ancient  and  destined 
o  so  great  a  sublimation.  They  knew  that  He  loved  them; 
but  until  this  evening  their  poor  bruised  hearts  had  not  felt 
bow  poignant  His  love  was.  He  knew  that  this  evening  was 
fhe  last  respite  of  rest  and  cheer  before  His  death,  and  yet  He 
had  desired  it  ardently  as  though  it  were  a  boon,  with  that 
fervor  which  is  the  mark  of  passionate  souls,  souls  on  fire, 
i  oving  souls,  those  who  battle  for  the  love  of  victory,  who  en¬ 
dure  all  things  for  a  high  prize.  He  had  ardently  desired  to 
at  this  Passover  with  them.  He  had  eaten  others:  He  had 
iaten  with  them  thousands  of  other  times,  seated  in  boats,  in 


292 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


their  friends’  houses,  in  strangers’  houses,  in  rich  men’s  houses 
or  seated  beside  the  road,  in  mountain  pastures,  in  the  shadow 
of  bushes  on  the  shore;  and  yet  for  so  long  He  had  ardently 
desired  to  eat  with  them  this  supper  which  was  the  last!  The 
blue  skies  of  happy  Galilee,  the  soft  winds  of  the  spring  just 
passed,  the  sun  of  the  last  Passover,  the  waving  branches  o] 
His  triumphant  entry,  did  He  think  of  them  now?  Now  He 
saw  only  His  first  friends  and  His  last  friends,  the  little  group 
destined  to  be  diminished  by  treachery,  and  dispersed  by  cow¬ 
ardice.  Still,  for  a  time  they  were  there  about  Him  in  the 
same  room,  at  the  same  table,  sharing  with  Him  the  same' 
overwhelming  grief,  but  sharing  also  the  light  of  a  super 
natural  certainty.  ' 

Up  to  that  day  He  had  suffered,  but  not  for  Himself;  He 
had  suffered  because  of  His  ardent  desire  for  this  nocturnal 
hour,  when  the  air  was  already  heavy  with  the  tragedy  of  fare 
wells.  And,  when  He  had  thus  told  them  how  great  was  Hi< 
love,  Christ’s  face,  soon  to  be  buffeted,  shone  with  that  noble^ 
sadness  which  is  so  strangely  like  joy. 

I 

THE  WASHING  OF  THE  FEET 

Now  that  He  was  on  the  point  of  being  snatched  from  thosf' 
whom  He  loved.  He  wished  to  give  them  a  supreme  proof  o 
this  love.  From  the  time  they  had  begun  to  share  His  life’ 
He  had  always  loved  them,  all  of  them,  even  Judas:  He  always 
loved  them  with  a  love  surpassing  all  other  affections,  a  low 
so  bountiful  that  their  narrow  hearts  could  not  always  coni 
tain  it;  but  now  about  to  leave  them,  knowing  that  He  wa^ 
to  be  with  them  again  only  when  transfigured  after  death,  al' 
His  hitherto  unexpressed  affection  overflowed  in  a  great  wav' 
of  tender  sadness. 

Before  beginning  the  supper  where  He  was  the  head  o 
the  family,  He  wished  to  be  kinder  than  a  Father,  humble' 
than  a  servant.  He  was  their  King,  and  He  would  humbl 
Himself  to  the  service  performed  by  slaves:  He  was  thef 
Master  and  He  would  put  Himself  below  the  level  of  Hi 
disciples;  He  was  the  Son  of  God  and  He  would  accept  . 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


293 


position  despised  of  men  :  He  was  the  first  and  He  would  kneel 
jbefore  His  inferiors  as  if  He  had  been  the  last.  So  many 
times,  to  rebuke  their  pride  and  jealousy,  He  had  told  them 
that  the  Master  must  serve  his  servants,  that  the  Son  of  Man 
^as  come  to  serve,  that  the  first  must  be  last.  But  His  words 
pad  not  yet  been  assimilated  by  those  souls,  since  even  up 
o  the  last,  they  continued  to  quarrel  for  priority  and  prece- 
ence. 

For  raw,  untrained  minds,  action  has  more  meaning  than 
ords.  Jesus  prepared  Himself  to  repeat,  with  the  symbolic 
spect  of  a  humiliating  service,  one  of  His  most  important  in- 
tructions.  John  tells  us,  ‘^He  riseth  from  supper,  and  laid 
side  his  garments;  and  took  a  towel,  and  girded  himself. 
(\fter  that  he  poureth  water  into  a  bason  and  began  to  wash 
e  disciples’  feet,  and  to  wipe  them  with  the  towel  wherewith 
e  was  girded.’ 

Only  a  mother  or  a  slave  would  have  done  what  Jesus  did 
at  evening.  The  mother  would  have  done  it  for  her  little 
Children,  but  for  no  one  else:  the  slave  for  his  masters,  but 
or  no  others.  The  mother  would  have  served  joyfully  because 
f  her  love,  the  slave  would  have  been  resigned  through  obedi- 
mce.  But  the  Twelve  were  neither  Christ’s  children  nor  His 
asters.  Son  of  Man  and  of  God,  His  love  was  above  that  of 
11  earthly  mothers, — King  of  a  kingdom  existing  in  the  future, 
ut  more  legitimate  than  all  existing  monarchies,  He  was  the 
nrecognized  Master  of  all  masters. 

And  yet  He  was  willing  to  wash  and  wipe  those  twenty-four 
allous  and  sweaty  feet,  in  order  to  engrave  on  those  unwilling 
earts,  still  swollen  with  vanity,  the  truth  which  His  lips  had 
long  vainly  pronounced;  “And  whosoever  shall  exalt  him- 
If  shall  be  abased;  and  he  that  shall  humble  himself  shall 
e  exalted.” 

So  after  He  had  washed  their  feet  and  taken  His  garments 
nd  was  set  down  again  He  said  unto  them,  “Know  ye  what 
have  done  to  you?  Ye  call  me  Master  and  Lord:  and  ye 
ay  well;  for  so  I  am.  If  I  then,  your  Lord  and  Master,  have 
cashed  your  feet;  ye  also  ought  to  wash  one  another’s  feet. 
jJor  I  have  given  you  an  example,  that  ye  should  do  as  I  have 


294 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


done  to  you.  Verily,  verily  I  say  unto  3^ou,  The  servant  is 
not  greater  than  his  lord;  neither  is  he  that  is  sent  greater 
than  he  that  sent  him.  If  ye  know  these  things,  happy  are  yeji 
if  ye  do  them.”  M 

Jesus  had  not  only  given  them  a  memory  of  complete  humil^f 
ity,  but  an  example  of  perfect  love.  “A  new  commandment| 
I  give  unto  you.  That  ye  love  one  another;  as  I  have  loved  you  A 
that  ye  also  love  one  another.  Greater  love  hath  no  man  thari| 
this,  that  a  man  lay  down  his  life  for  his  friends.  Ye  are| 
my  friends  if  ye  do  whatsoever  I  command  you.”  g! 

But  this  action,  with  its  deep  meaning  hidden  under  thy 
appearance  of  m.enial  service,  signifies  purification  as  well  a^ 
love.  ^‘He  that  is  washed  needeth  not  save  to  wash  his  feet^ 
but  is  clean  every  whit:  and  ye  are  clean,  but  not  all.” 

The  eleven,  although  not  of  lofty  character,-  had  some  right  c 
to  this  cleansing  service  from  Jesus.  For  many  months  those 
feet  had  trodden  the  dusty,  muddy,  filthy  roads  of  Judea  to 
follow  Him  who  brought  life;  and  after  His  death,  year  by 
year,  they  were  to  tread  longer  and  harder  roads  in  countries  : 
the  very  names  of  which  they  then  did  not  know;  and  foreign  li 
clay  would  soil  the  sandaled  feet  of  those  who  were  to  go  as 
pilgrims  and  strangers  to  repeat  the  call  of  the  Crucified  ! 
One.  i 


TAKE — EAT 


These  thirteen  men  had  apparently  come  together  to  per¬ 
form  the  old  social  rite  in  memory  of  the  liberation  of  their 
people  from  Egyptian  slavery.  They  seemed  to  be  thirteen 
devout  men  of  the  people,  waiting  about  a  white  table  redolent  | 
of  roasted  lamb  and  wine, ‘for  the  signal  to  begin  an  intimate  ^ 
and  festal  supper. 

But  this  was  only  in  appearance.  In  reality  it  was  a  vigil 
of  leave-taking  and  separation.  Two  of  these  thirteen.  He  into 
whom  God  had  entered  and  he  into  whom  Satan  had  entered, 
were  to  die  terrible  deaths  before  the  next  nightfall.  The  very 
next  day  the  others  were  to  be  dispersed,  like  reapers  at  the  ^ 
first  downfall  of  hail. 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


295 


I  But  this  supper  which  was  the  viaticum  of  an  ending,  was 
,lso  a  wonderful  beginning.  In  the  midst  of  these  thirteen 
!ews  the  observance  of  the  Jewish  Passover  was  about  to  be 
ransfigured  into  something  incomparably  higher  and  more 
''niversal,  into  something  unequaled  and  ineffable;  into  the 
*reat  Christian  mystery.  The  simple  eating  of  bread  was  to 
‘  ecome  actual  communion  with  God. 

I  For  the  Jews,  Easter  is  only  the  feast  in  memory  of  their 
tight  from  Egypt.  They  never  forgot  their  victorious 
scape  from  their  slavery,  accompanied  by  so  many  prodigies,  ^ 
a  manifestly  under  God^s  protection,  although  they  were  to 
ear  on  their  necks  the  -yokes  of  other  captivities,  and  to 
.ndergo  the  shame  of  other  deportations.  Exodus  prescribed 
|n  annual  festivity  which  took  the  name  of  the  Passover; 
fasch,  the  paschal  feast.  It  was  a  sort  of  banquet  intended 
o  bring  to  mind  the  hastily  prepared  food  of  the  fugitives. 

1  lamb  or  a  goat  should  be  roasted  over  the  fire,  that  is, 
ooked  in  the  simplest  and  quickest  v/ay;  bread  without  leaven, 
)ecause  there  was  no  time  to  let  yeast  rise.  And  they  were 
|o  eat  of  it  with  their  loins  girded,  their  staves  in  their  hands, 
iating  in  haste,  like  people  about  to  set  out  upon  a  journey. 
[Te  bitter  herbs  were  the  poor  wild  grasses  snatched  up  as 
hey  went  along  by  the  fugitives,  to  dull  the  hunger  of  their 
^terminable  wanderings.  The  red  sauce,  where  the  bread 
Ì7as  dipped,  was  in  memory  of  the  bricks  which  the  Jewish 
laves  were  obliged  to  bake  for  the  Pharaohs.  The  wine  was 
something  added:  the  joy  of  escape,  the  hope  of  the  land  of 
ij)romise,  the  exaltation  of  thanksgiving  to  the  Eternal. 

*  Jesus  changed  nothing  in  the  order  of  this  ancient  feast, 
mter  the  prayer  He  had  them  pass  from  hand  to  hand  the 
lup  of  wine,  calling  on  God’s  name.  Then  He  gave  the  bitter 
'lerbs  to  each  one  and  filled  a  second  time  the  cup  which  was 
0  be  passed  around  the  table  for  each  to  sip. 

What  taste  did  that  wine  have  in  the  mouth  of  the  traitor, 
vhen  Jesus  in  that  deep  silence  pronounced  those  words  of 
onging  and  hope  which  were  not  for  Judas,  but  only  for  those 
\^ho  could  ascend  to  the  eternal  banquet  of  the  Father:  Take 
his  and  divide  it  among  yourselves,  “but  I  say  unto  you  I 


296 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


will  not  drink  henceforth  of  this  fruit  of  the  vine,  until  tha 
day  when  I  drink  it  new  with  you  in  my  Father’s  kingdom.” 

A  sad  farewell;  but  nevertheless  the  confirming  of  a  solemi 
promise.  Perhaps  they  felt  only  the  promise,  and  perhapi 
there  flashed  before  their  poor  men’s  eyes  a  vision  of  the  grea 
Heavenly  feast.  They  did  not  believe  that  they  would  hav( 
a  long  time  to  mourn:  after  that  other  vintage-time,  afte; 
the  fruit  of  the  vine  had  fermented,  and  the  sweet  wine  ha( 
been  poured  into  the  flasks,  the  Master  would  return,  as  Hi 
had  promised,  to  summon  them  to  the  great  wedding  of  Heavei 
and  Earth,  to  the  everlasting  banquet.  They  must  hav 
thought,  ‘‘We  are  men  growing  old,  elderly  men,  more  thai 
mature,  within  sight  of  old  age;  if  the  Bridegroom  tarries  toi 
long  He  will  not  find  us  among  the  living,  and  those  who  hav 
believed  Him  will  be  mocked  at.” 

Comforted  by  the  certainty  of  an  early  and  glorious  reunion 
they  chanted  together,  as  the  custom  was,  the  Psalm  of  the  firs 
Thanksgiving,  a  chant  of  praise  to  the  Father  from  Him  whi 
served  Him.  “Tremble,  thou  earth,  at  the  presence  of  th 
Lord,  at  the  presence  of  the  God  of  Jacob;  which  turned  th 
rock  into  a  standing  water,  the  flint  into  a  fountain  of  waters 
— He  raiseth  up  the  poor  out  of  the  dust,  and  lifteth  the  need; 
out  of  the  dung-hill;  that  he  may  set  him  with  princes,  evei 
with  the  princes  of  his  people.” 

These  old  words,  colored  at  that  moment  with  a  new  mean 
ing,  were  sung  with  a  joyful  conviction  of  their  truth.  They 
too,  the  Disciples,  were  poor  men  and  they  would  be  raisei 
out  of  the  dust  of  poverty  by  the  intercession  of  the  Soi 
of  God:  they  too  were  poor  men  and  He  would  soon  raisi 
them  out  of  the  misery  of  their  beggary,  to  make  them  mas 
ters  of  inconsumable  wealth. 

Then  Jesus,  who  saw  how  insufficiently  they  understood 
took  the  loaves,  blessed  them,  broke  them  and,  as  He  gavi 
them  each  a  piece,  set  the  dreadful  truth  before  their  eyes 
“Take,  eat;  This  is  my  body  which  is  given  for  you:  thi: 
do  in  remembrance  of  me.” 

So  He  was  not  to  return  as  quickly  as  they  thought!  Aftei 
His  brief  stay  during  the  Resurrection,  His  second  coming  wai 


J 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST  297 

to  be  delayed,  so  long  that  it  might  be  possible  to  forget  Him 
and  His  death. 

“This  do  in  remembrance  of  me.”  The  breaking  of  bread  at 
the  common  table  among  those  who  await  Him  shall  be  the  sig¬ 
nal  of  a  new  brotherhood.  Every  time  that  you  break  bread, 
[j  I  will  not  only  be  present  among  you,  but  by  that  means 
s  you  will  be  intimately  united  with  me.  Because,  as  this  bread 
I  is  broken  in  my  hands,  my  body  will  be  broken  by  my  enemies. 
I  As  this  bread  eaten  to-night  will  be  your  food  until  to-morrow, 
my  body  v/hich  I  will  offer  in  death  to  all  men  shall 
satisfy  the  hunger  of  those  who  believe  in  me,  until  the  day 
when  the  great  granaries  of  the  Kingdom  shall  be  open  to  all, 
when  you  shall  be  angels  in  the  presence  of  your  Father  whom 
you  shall  have  found  again.  I  will  leave  you  therefore  not 
I  merely  a  memory;  I  will  be  present  with  a  mystic  but  real 
presence  in  every  particle  of  bread  consecrated  to  me  and 
this  bread  shall  be  a  living  necessary  food  for  souls,  and  my 
^  promise  to  be  with  you  shall  be  fulfilled  till  time  shall  be  no 
more. 

In  the  meantime,  this  evening,  eat  this  unleavened  bread, 
this  bread  made  by  the  hand  of  man,  made  of  water  and  grain, 
these  loaves  which  have  felt  the  heat  of  the  oven  and  which 
my  hands,  not  yet  cold  in  death,  have  divided  amongst  you — 
and  which  my  love  has  changed  into  my  flesh  so  that  it  may 
be  your  everlasting  food.  It  is  sweet  to  the  heart  of  a  friend 
to  see  his  friends  eating  bread  at  his  table,  bread  born  of  the 
.  earth,  bread  which  was  green  blades  with  flowering  lilies  among 
them,  and  then  the  ripe  ear  bending  down  the  tall  stalk  with 
its  golden  weight.  You  know  how  many  efforts,  how  much 
'  anxiety,  how  much  trouble,  are  contained  in  a  piece  of  bread; 
'how  the  great  oxen  cultivated  the  earth,  how  the  countrymen 
threw  great  handfuls  of  the  grain  into  the  fallow  land  in 
winter,  how  the  first  blade  softly  penetrated  the  damp  darkness 
of  the  earth,  how  the  reapers  all  day  long  cut  down  the  ripened 
f  stalks,  and  then  the  sheaves  were  bound,  and  carried  to  the 
threshing  floor  and  beaten  so  that  the  ears  let  fall  the  grain, 
r  The  workers  must  wait  for  a  little  wind,  neither  too  gentle 
^nor  too  violent,  to  winnow  out  the  good  grain  from  the  chaff. 


1. 


298 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


Then  they  grind  it,  sift  out  the  bran  from  it,  make  a  dough 
with  warm  water,  heat  the  oven  with  dry  grass  or  twigs.  All 
this  must  be  done  with  love  and  patience  before  the  father 
may  break  a  piece  with  his  children,  the  friend  with  his  friends, 
the  host  with  strangers.  Flowers,  sowers,  reapers,  winnowers, 
millers  and  bakers  sweat  in  the  heat  of  the  sun,  in  the  heat 
of  the  oven,  before  the  golden  wheat  can  be  transformed  into 
well-baked  golden  bread  for  our  table. 

Truly  it  is  sweet  to  eat  good  wholesome  bread  with  friends: 
the  soft  white  crumb,  covered  with  the  crisp  crust.  So  man> 
times  with  me  you  have  begged  bread  in  poor  men’s  houses; 
and  all  your  lives  you  are  to  beg  it  in  my  name:  you  will 
have  the  moldy  hard  crusts  which  dogs  refuse,  the  dry  bib 
left  at  the  bottom  of  the  dish,  the  crusts  gnawed  by  childrer 
and  old  people  which  they  have  let  fall  upon'  the  hearth.  Bui 
you  know  want,  and  nights  of  fasting  and  the  pale  face  ol 
poverty.  But  you  are  strong;  you  have  the  powerful  jaws  0: 
those  who  eat  hard  bread.  You  will  not  lose  courage,  if  nc 
place  is  made  for  you  at  the  tables  of  the  well-to-do. 

But  verily  it  is  infinitely  sweeter  for  Him  who  loves  yoi 
to  transform  the  bread  which  comes  from  the  hard  earth  anc 
from  hard  labor  into  the  Body  which  will  be  eternally  offeree 
for  you,  into  the  Body  which  every  day  will  come  down  froir 
Heaven  as  the  visible  means  of  grace. 

Remember  the  prayer  which  I  taught  you:  “Give  us  thi‘ 
day  our  daily  bread — ”  For  to-day  and  for  always  youi 
bread  is  this  bread,  my  Body.  He  shall  never  know  hunge 
who  shall  eat  my  Body,  which  every  morning  throughout  end 
less  centuries  shall  be  changed  into  endless  morsels  of  transubi 
stantiated  bread.  But  whosoever  shall  refuse  it,  shall  b( 
anhungered  to  all  eternity. 


i 


WINE  AND  BLOOD 

As  soon  as  they  had  eaten  the  lamb  with  the  bread  anc 
the  bitter  herb,  Jesus  filled  the  common  cup  for  the  thirc 
time  and  gave  it  to  the  Apostle  nearest  Him,  “Drink  ye  all  0 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST  299 

it;  for  this  is  my  blood  of  the  new  testament,  which  is  shed 
for  many.” 

His  blood,  mixed  with  sweat,  had  not  yet  fallen  on  the 
ground,  under  the  olives,  and  had  not  yet  dropped  from  the 
nails  upon  Golgotha.  But  His  desire  to  give  life  with  His 
life,  to  redeem  with  His  suffering  all  the  sorrows  of  the  world, 
to  transmit  at  least  a  part  of  His  substance  to  His  immediate 
heirs;  this  desire  to  give  Himself  up  wholly  for  those  whom 
He  loves  is  so  great  that  from  this  moment  on,  He  feels  the 
immolation  complete  and  the  gift  possible.  If  bread  is  the 
body,  blood  is  in  a  certain  sense  the  soul.  The  Lord  said  to 
Noah:  “But  flesh  with  the  life  thereof,  which  is  the  blood 
thereof,  shall  ye  not  eat.”  With  blood  as  visibly  representing 
life,  the  God  of  Abraham  and  of  Jacob  had  established  the 
covenant  with  His  own  people.  When  Moses  had  received 
the  law,  he  had  sacrificed  oxen,  took  half  of  the  blood  and  put 
it  in  basins,  and  half  of  the  blood  he  sprinkled  on  the  altar: 
“And  Moses  took  the  blood,  and  sprinkled  it  on  the  people, 
and  said.  Behold  the  blood  of  the  covenant  which  the  Lord 
hath  made  with  you  concerning  all  these  words.” 

But  after  a  trial  of  many  centuries,  God  had  announced 
by  the  voice  of  the  prophets  that  the  Old  Covenant  was  oblit¬ 
erated  and  abrogated,  and  that  another  was  henceforth  nec¬ 
essary.  The  blood  of  animals  sprinkled  upon  stubborn  heads 
and  upon  blaspheming  faces  had  lost  its  virtue;  another  Blood, 
purer  and  more  precious,  was  needed  for  the  New  Covenant, 
for  the  Last  Covenant  of  the  Father  with  His  perjured  children. 
In  many  ways  He  had  already  tried  to  lead  His  first-born  to¬ 
wards  the  narrow  door  of  salvation;  the  rain  of  fire  on  Sodom, 
the  washings  of  the  waters  of  the  flood,  the  Egyptian  slavery, 
hunger  in  the  desert,  had  terrified  them  without  reforming 
them. 

And  now  there  had  come  a  Liberator  at  once  more  divine 
and  more  human  than  the  old  Captain  of  Exodus.  Moses 
also  saved  a  people,  spoke  upon  a  mountain,  announced  a 
promised  land.  But  Jesus  saves  not  only  His  people,  but 
all  peoples;  writes  His  laws  not  upon  stone,  but  upon  human 


300 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


hearts;  and  His  promised  land  is  not  a  country  of  rich  grazing- 
land  and  vineyards,  with  great  clusters  of  grapes,  but  a  King¬ 
dom  of  holiness  and  eternal  joy.  Moses  had  killed  a  man, 
and  Jesus  brought  the  dead  to  life;  Moses  changed  water 
into  blood  and  Jesus,  after  having  changed  water  into  wine 
at  the  wedding  banquet,  changed  wine  into  blood,  into  His 
own  blood,  at  the  melancholy  last  supper  of  His  marriage  with 
death.  Moses  died  full  of  years  and  honors  on  a  solitary 
mountain  top,  glorified  by  his  people;  and  Jesus  was  to  die 
among  the  insults  of  those  whom  He  loved. 

The  blood  of  oxen,  the  impure  blood  of  earthly  animals, 
involuntary  and  inferior  victims,  is  no  longer  sufficient.  The 
New  Covenant  was  established  that  night  with  the  words  of  , 
Christ,  who  under  the  appearance  of  wine  shed  His  own  blood 
and  His  own  soul:  ‘This  cup  is  the  new  testament  in  my 
blood,  which  is  shed  for  you.’’ 

It  was  shed  not  merely  for  the  Twelve  who  were  there; 
they  represent  in  His  eyes  all  of  humanity  alive  at  that  time  ' 
and  all  those  to  be  born  thereafter.  The  blood  which  was  to 

► 

be  shed  the  next  day,  on  Golgotha,  was  real  blood,  actual,  warm 
blood  congealing  on  the  cross  in  clots  which  all  the  tears  shed 
by  Christians  can  never  wash  away.  But  the  blood  of  the  i 
Last  Supper  symbolizes  a  soul  which  gave  itself  up  to  make  ' 
over  into  His  own  likeness,  the  souls  shut  up  in  the  bodies  ; 
of  men:  which  was  given  to  those  who  asked  for  it  and  to  ^ 
those  who  fled  away  from  it,  which  had  suffered  for  the  sake 
of  those  who  had  received  it  and  for  those  who  had  blasphemed  ^ 
it.  This  baptism  of  blood  which  came  after  the  baptism  of  I 
water  by  John,  after  the  baptism  of  tears  by  the  women  of 
Bethany,  after  the  baptism  of  spitting  by  the  Jews  and  by  lì 


the  Romans,  this  baptism  of  blood,  red  as  the  baptism  of 


fire  announced  by  the  prophet  of  fire,  and  mixed  with  the  £ 
tears  shed  by  women  over  His  blood-stained  body,  this^' 
is  the  greatest  sacrament,  revealed  to  His  betrayers,  by  Him 
who  was  betrayed. 

I  have  broken  bread  for  you,  daily  bread  for  which  you) 
pray  every  day  to  the  Father,  as  my  body  will  be  broken 
to-morrow,  and  I  offer  you  now  my  blood  in  this  wine  which 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


301 


I  drink  for  the  last  time  on  earth.  If  you  always  do  this  in 
memory  of  me,  you  will  feel  no  hunger,  no  thirst.  There 
is  no  food  better  than  wheat-bread,  and  no  drink  better  than 
wine,  but  the  bread  and  wine  which  I  have  given  you  to-night 
will  feed  you  and  quench  your  thirst  for  all  your  lives,  by 
virtue  of  my  sacrifice  and  of  that  love  which  makes  me  seek 
for  death  and  which  reigns  beyond  death. 

Ulysses  advised  Achilles  to  give  the  Achaians,  before  they 
went  into  battle,  ^^bread  and  wine  that  they  should  have 
strength  and  courage.’’  For  the  Greek  the  strength  of  his 
members  came  from  bread  and  homicidal  courage  from  wine. 
Wine  was  to  intoxicate  men  so  that  they  should  destroy  each 
other  and  bread  was  to  strengthen  their  arms  so  that  they 
could  battle  without  weakness.  The  bread  given  by  Christ 
does  not  strengthen  the  flesh,  but  the  soul,  and  His  wine 
gives  that  divine  intoxication  which  is  Love,  that  Love  which 
the  Apostle,  scandalizing  the  descendants  of  Ulysses,  was  to 
I  call  in  his  Epistle  to  the  Corinthians,  “the  foolishness  of  God.” 
I  Judas  also  ate  that  bread  and  swallowed  that  wine,  partook 
i  of  that  body,  in  which  he  had  trafficked,  drank  that  blood 
I  which  he  was  to  help  shed,  but  he  had  not  the  courage  to 
;  confess  his  infamy,  to  throw  himself  down  weeping  at  the  feet 
!  of  Him  who  would  have  wept  with  him.  Then  the  only 
*  friend  remaining  to  Judas  warned  him,  “Verily  I  say  unto 
you,  that  one  of  you  shall  betray  me.” 

I  The  eleven  were  capable  of  leaving  Him  alone  in  the  midst 
I  of  Caiaphas’  guards,  but  they  never  could  have  brought  them- 
I  selves  to  sell  Him  for  money,  and  at  this  they  shuddered. 
I  Every  one  looked  in  his  neighbor’s  face,  almost  dreading  to 
I  see  in  his  companion  the  livid  look  of  guilt,  and  all,  one  after 
I  the  other,  said,  “Lord,  is  it  I?” 

I  Even  Judas,  hiding  his  increasing  confusion  under  the  ap- 
1  pearance  of  offended  astonishment,  was  able  to  force  his  voice 
I  to  say,  “Lord,  is  it  I?”  But  Jesus,  who  the  next  day  would 
||  not  defend  Himself,  would  not  even  bring  an  accusation  and 
|{  only  repeated  the  sad  prophecy  in  more  definite  words,  “He 
I  that  dippeth  his  hand  with  me  in  the  dish,  the  same  shall 
I  betray  me.”  And  while  they  all  still  gazed  at  Him  in  painful 


■  1 


303 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


doubt,  for  the  third  time  He  insisted,  .  .  .  ^‘The  hand  of  him 
that  betrayeth  me  is  with  me  on  the  table.”  He  added  no 
more,  but  to  follow  the  old  customs  up  to  the  last.  He  filled  the 
cup  for  the  fourth  time  and  gave  it  to  them  to  drink.  And 
once  more  the  thirteen  voices  rang  out  in  the  old  hymn,  the 
^^great  hallel”  which  ended  the  liturgy  of  the  Passover.  Jesus 
repeated  the  vigorous  words  of  the  Psalmist  which  were  like 
a  prophetic  funeral  oration  for  Him,  pronounced  before  His 
death.  “The  Lord  is  on  my  side;  I  will  not  fear;  what  can 
man  do  unto  me?  .  .  .  They  compassed  me  about  like  bees: 
they  are  quenched  as  the  fire  of  thorns.  ...  I  shall  not  die, 
but  live.  .  .  .  The  Lord  hath  chastened  me  sore:  but  he  hath 
not  given  me  over  unto  death.  Open  to  me  the  gates  of 
righteousness:  I  will  go  into  them,  and  I  will  praise  the  Lord: 
.  .  .  The  stone  which  the  builders  refused  is  become  the  head¬ 
stone  of  the  corner.  .  .  .  Bind  the  sacrifice  with  cords,  even 
unto  the  horns  of  the  altar.” 

The  victim  was  ready  and  the  next  day  the  inhabitants  of 
Jerusalem  were  to  see  a  new  altar  of  wood  and  iron.  But 
perhaps  the  Disciples,  sleepy  and  confused,  did  not  under¬ 
stand  the  new  meaning  both  melancholy  and  triumphant  of 
the  old  canticles. 

When  the  hymn  was  ended  they  left  the  room  and  the 
house,  at  once.  As  soon  as  they  had  emerged  from  the  house 
Judas  disappeared  into  the  night.  The  remaining  eleven 
silently  followed  Jesus,  who,  as  was  His  wont,  made  His  way 
to  the  Mount  of  Olives. 

ABBA  FATHER 

On  the  Mount  there  was  a  garden,  and  a  place  where  olives 
were  crushed,  which  gave  it  its  name,  Gethsemane.  Jesus 
and  His  friends  had  been  spending  the  nights  there,  either 
to  avoid  the  odors  and  noise  of  the  great  city,  distasteful  to 
them,  country-bred  as  they  were,  or  because  they  were  afraid 
of  being  treacherously  captured  in  the  midst  of  their  enemies^ 
houses. 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


303 


r? 


Ì 


And  when  He  was  at  the  place,  He  said  to  His  disciples, 
^‘Sit  ye  here  while  I  go  and  pray  yonder.” 

But  He  was  so  heavy-hearted  that  He  dreaded  being  alone. 
He  took  with  Him  the  three  whom  He  loved  the  best,  Simon 
Peter,  James  and  John.  And  when  they  had  gone  a  little  way 
from  the  others.  He  began  to  be  sorrowful  and  very  heavy. 
“My  soul  is  exceedingly  sorrowful,  even  unto  death;  tarry  ye 
here,  and  watch  with  me.” 

If  they  answered  Him  no  one  knows  what  they  said.  But 
we  know  that  they  did  not  comfort  Him  with  the  words  which 
come  from  the  heart  when  it  shares  the  suffering  of  a  loved  one, 
for  He  withdrew  Himself  from  them  alone,  and  went  further 
on,  to  pray.  He  fell  on  the  ground  on  His  face  and  prayed, 
saying,  “Abba,  Father,  all  things  are  possible  unto  thee;  O 
my  Father,  if  it  be  possible,  let  this  cup  pass  from  me.” 

He  was  alone  now,  alone  in  the  night,  alone  in  the  midst 
of  men,  alone  before  God,  and  He  could  show  His  weakness 
without  shame.  After  all,  he  was  a  Man,  too,  a  man  of  flesh 
and  blood,  a  living,  breathing  man,  who  knew  that  His  de¬ 
struction  was  at  hand,  that  His  body  would  be  destroyed,  that 
His  flesh  would  be  pierced,  that  His  blood  w^ould  be  poured 
out  on  the  ground. 

This  was  the  second  temptation.  After  the  defeat  of  Satan 
in  the  desert,  the  Evangelist  says:  “he  departed  from  him 
for  a  season.”  He  had  left  Him  till  this  moment  Now  He 
was  in  a  new  desert,  terribly  alone  in  the  darkness,  more  alone 
than  in  the  desert  where  the  wild  beasts  served  Him. 
Cloaked  and  learned  wild  beasts  were  at  hand  now,  but  only 
to  tear  Him  to  pieces.  In  that  terrible  nocturnal  desert,  Satan 
returned  to  tempt  his  enemy;  at  first  he  had  promised  Christ, 
kingdoms,  victories,  and  prodigies,  he  had  tried  to  draw  Him 
by  the  bait  of  power.  Now,  on  the  contrary,  he  counted  on 
His  weakness.  At  the  beginning  of  His  life,  Christ  burning 
with  confident  love  had  not  fallen  into  his  trap,  but  Christ 
near  His  end,  abandoned  by  those  nearest  to  Him,  encompassed 
by  His  enemies,  might  be  conquered  by  fear,  even  though  He 
had  risen  above  cupidity.  The  prayer  to  the  Father  was  at 


304 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


J 


the  instigation  of  Satan,  was  a  beginning  of  cowardice.  Jesus 
knew  He  must  die,  that  His  death  was  necessary,  that  He  had 
come  to  give  life  by  His  death,  to  confirm  by  His  death  that 
greater  life  which  He  announced.  He  had  made  no  effort  to 
avoid  death.  He  had  been  willing  to  die  for  His  friends,  for 
all  men,  for  those  who  did  not  know  Him,  for  those  who 
hated  Him,  for  those  not  yet  born.  He  had  predicted  His 
death  to  His  friends,  had  already  given  them  the  rewards  of 
His  death,  the  bread  of  His  body,  the  blood  of  His  soul;  and 
He  had  no  right  to  ask  the  Father  that  the  cup  might  pass 
from  His  lips  or  that  His  death  might  be  delayed.  He  had 
written  His  words  on  the  dust  of  the  public  place,  and  the 
wind  had  quickly  obliterated  them.  He  had  written  them  on 
the  hearts  of  a  few  men,  but  He  knew  how  easily  effaced  are 
words  written  on  the  hearts  of  men.  If  His  truth  were  to 
remain  forever  on  the  earth  so  that  no  one  could  ever  forget 
it  He  must  write  it  with  His  blood.  Only  with  the  blood  in 
our  veins  can  truth  be  written  peruianently  on  the  pages  of 
earth  so  that  it  will  not  fade  under  men’s  footsteps  or  under 
the  rainfall  of  centuries.  The  Cross  is  the  rigorously  necessary 
.  consequence  of  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount.  He  who  brings 
love  is  given  over  to  hatred^  and  He  can  only  conquer  hatred 
by  accepting  condemnation.  Everything  must  be  paid  for,  the 
good  at  a  higher  price  than  evil;  and  the  greatest  good,  which 
is  love,  must  be  paid  for  by  the  greatest  evil  in  men’s  power, 
assassination. 

But  all  that  faith  and  revelation  tell  us  of  His  divinity  rises 
up  against  the  idea  that  He  can  ever  have  been  subjected  toi| 
temptation.  If  the  torture  and  the  end  of  His  body  had  really^’ 
terrified  Him,  was  there  not  yet  time  to  save  Himself?  For 
many  days  He  had  known  that  they  were  trying  to  take  Him 
captive,  and  even  on  that  night  there  were  ways  of  escaping 
the  pack  of  hounds  ready  to  fall  upon  Him.  He  would  have; 
been  safe  if,  either  alone  or  with  His  most  faithful  friends, t 
tie  had  taken  the  road  back  to  the  Jordan,  and  thence  by|; 
hidden  paths  have  passed  across  Perea  into  the  Tetrarchy  of|| 
Philip,  where  He  had  already  taken  refuge  to  escape  the  ill^v 
will  of  Antipas.  The  Jewish  police  were  so  few  and  primitive 


I 


.y'v 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


305 


that  they  could  scarcely  have  found  Him.  The  fact  that  He 
did  not  do  this,  did  not  flee,  shows  that  He  did  not  try  to 
escape  death  and  the  horrors  that  were  to  accompany  it.  From 
the  point  of  view  of  our  coarse  human  logic  His  death  was  a 
suicide — a  divine  suicide  by  the  hand  of  others,  not  unlike 
that  of  the  heroes  of  antiquity  who  fell  upon  the  sword  of  a 
friend  or  a  slave.  What  sort  of  a  life  would  He  have  had 
after  such  a  flight?  To  grow  old  obscurely,  the  timorous  mas* 
ter  of  a  hidden  sect,  to  die  at  the  last,  worn  out,  the  death- 
rattle  in  His  throat  like  any  other  man!  Better,  infinitely 
better  to  finish  the  sowing  of  the  Gospel  on  the  Cross  and  to 
water  it  with  His  blood.  He  had  spoken  out  His  truths  and 
now,  that  those  truths  should  be  everlastingly  remembered  He 
must  needs  link  with  them  the  horror  of  His  unforgettable 
death.  Perhaps  this  blood,  like  a  stinging  drink,  would  arouse 
His  disciples  forever. 

But  if  the  cup  that  Jesus  wished  to  pass  from  Him  was 
not  fear  of  death,  what  else  could  it  have  been?  Betrayal  by 
him  whom  He  had  chosen  and  loved,  by  the  disciple  whose 
hunger  He  had  fed  that  very  evening  with  His  body,  whose 
thirst  He  had  quenched  with  His  soul?  Or  the  denial  close 
at  hand  of  the  other  disciple  in  whom  after  his  cry  at  Caesarea 
He  had  the  greatest  hope?  Or  the  desertion  of  all  the  others 
who  would  flee  like  scattered  lambs  when  the  wolf  sets  his 
fangs  into  their  mother’s  body?  Or  was  it  grief  for  that  greater 
denial,  the  refusal  of  His  own  people,  the  Jews,  of  the  people 
from  whom  He  was  born  and  who  now  despised  Flim  like  one 
born  out  of  His  time,  and  suppressed  Him  like  a  child  of 
shame,  and  did  not  know  that  the  blood  of  Him  who  came 
to  save  them  would  never  be  wiped  from  their  foreheads? 
Perhaps  in  the  darkness  of  this  last  vigil  He  had  a  glimpse 
of  the  fate  which  would  befall  His  children  later  on,  the 
bewilderment  of  the  first  saints,  the  dissensions  between  them, 
the  desertions,  the  martyrdoms,  the  massacres,  and  after  the 
hour  of  triumph  the  weakness  of  those  who  should  have  guided 
the  multitude,  the  irrepressible  schisms,  the  dismemberment 
of  the  Church,  the  wild  dreaming  of  heretical  pride,  the  growth 
of  innumerable  sects^  the  confusion  of  false  prophets,  the  bold- 


3o6 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


ness  of  rebellious  reformers,  the  simony  and  dissoluteness  of  > 
those  who  deny  Him  in  their  actions  while  glorifying  Him  in 
word  and  gesture:  the  persecutions  of  Christians  by  Christians, 
the  neglect  of  the  lukewarm  and  the  arrogant,  the  dominion  of 
new  Pharisees  and  new  Scribes,  distorting  and  betraying  His 
teachings,  the  misunderstanding  of  His  words,  when  they  fall 
into  the  hands  of  the  hair-splitters,  weighers  of  the  immaterial, 
separators  of  the  inseparable,  who,  with  learned  vanity,  evis¬ 
cerate  and  cut  to  pieces  the  living  things  they  pretend  to  bring 
to  life. 

The  cup  that  Jesus  wished  to  pass  from  Him  might  there¬ 
fore  have  been  not  at  all  any  wrong  done  to  Him,  but  wrongs 
committed  by  others,  those  alive  then  and  close  to  Him,  or 
those  not  yet  born  and  far-distant.  What  He  was  asking  from 
His  Father  might  have  been  not  His  own  safety  from  death,  i 
but  safety  from  the  evils,  which,  then  and  later,  were  to  over¬ 
whelm  those  who  claim  to  believe  in  Him.  The  origin  of  His 
sadness  would  have  been  thus  not  fear  for  Himself,  but  love 
for  others. 

But  no  one  will  ever  know  the  true  meaning  of  the  words 
cried  out  by  the  Son  to  the  Father,  in  the  black  loneliness  of 
the  Olives.  A  great  French  Christian  called  the  story  of  this  i 
night  the  ‘^Mystery  of  Jesus.”  The  ‘‘Mystery  of  Judas”  is 
the  only  human  mystery  in  the  Gospels;  the  prayer  of  Geth- 
semane  is  the  most  inscrutable,  divine  mystery  of  the  story 
of  Christ. 


BLOOD  AND  SWEAT 

And  when  He  had  prayed.  He  turned  back  to  find  the  Dis¬ 
ciples,  who  were  perhaps  waiting  for  Him  to  return.  But  the  i 
three  had  gone  to  sleep.  Crouching  on  the  ground,  wrapped  j 
as  best  they  could  in  their  cloaks,  Peter,  James  and  John,  the  1 
faithful,  the  specially  chosen,  had  allowed  themselves  to  be  i 
overcome  with  sleep.  The  obscure  apprehensions,  the  repeated  ). 
agitations  of  those  last  few  days,  the  oppressive  melancholy  ( 
of  the  Supper,  accompanied  by  words  so  grave,  by  presenti¬ 
ments  so  sad,  had  plunged  them  into  that  prostration  which  i 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


307 


I 


is  more  like  torpor  than  sleep.  The  voice  of  the  Master — ^who 
of  us  has  the  spiritual  acuteness  to  realize  that  the  accent  of 
that  voice  in  the  sinister  black  silence  is  speaking  also  to  our 
own  hearts  now? — called  them:  ^What,  could  ye  not  watch 
with  me  one  hour?  Watch  and  pray  that  ye  enter  not  into 
temptation.  The  spirit  indeed  is  willing  but  the  flesh  is  weak.” 
Did  they  hear  these  words  in  their  sleep?  Did  they  answer, 
shamefaced,  putting  their  hands  to  their  confused  eyes  which 
could  not  bear  even  the  dim  light  of  the  night?  What  could 
they  answer,  startled,  only  half  awake,  to  the  Sleepless  One 
who  was  to  sleep  no  more? 

Jesus  went  away  again,  more  heavy-hearted  than  ever.  Was 
the  temptation  against  which  He  had  put  them  on  guard  in 
them  alone  or  also  in  Him?  Was  it  the  temptation  to  escape? 
To  deny  Himself  as  others  were  to  deny  Him?  To  oppose 
violence  to  violence?  To  pay  with  the  lives  of  others  for 
His  own  life,  or  to  beg  once  more  with  a  more  despairing 
supplication  that  the  peril  might  be  averted  from  His  head? 

Jesus  was  once  more  alone,  more  alone  than  ever,  in  a 
solitude  complete  as  infinite  desolation.  Until  that  hour  He 
might  have  thought  that  there,  close  at  hand.  His  loved  friends 
were  keeping  vigil  with  Him.  Now  they  had  reached  the  limit 
of  their  endurance  and  had  deserted  Him  spiritually  before 
deserting  Him  bodily. 

They  had  left  Him  alone;  they  were  not  men  enough  to 
grant  Him  the  last  favor  which  He  asked,  they  who  had  re¬ 
ceived  so  many.  In  return  for  His  blood,  and  His  soul,  for 
all  His  promises,  for  all  His  love.  He  had  asked  one  thing 
only,  that  they  should  not  fall  asleep.  And  this  small  favor 
had  not  been  granted  Him.  And  yet  He  was  suffering  and 
struggling  at  that  moment  for  the  sake  of  those  who  slept. 
He  who  gave  all  was  to  receive  nothing.  During  that  night 
of  refusals  His  every  prayer  was  denied;  both  His  Father  and 
His  fellow-men  refused  Him. 

Satan  also  had  disappeared  into  the  darkness  which  is  his 
own  kingdom,  and  Christ  was  alone,  utterly  alone,  alone  as 
men  are  alone  who  raise  themselves  above  other  men,  who  suf¬ 
fer  in  the  darkness  to  bring  light  to  all.  Every  hero  is  always 


3o8 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


sell 

ear 


the  only  one  awake  in  a  world  of  sleepers,  like  the  pilot  watch-  (or 
ing  over  his  ship  in  the  solitude  of  the  ocean  and  of  the  night 
while  his  companions  rest. 

Jesus  was  the  most  solitary  of  all  these  eternally  solitarj|eg 
souls.  Everything  slept  about  Him.  The  city  slept,  its  white  k 
shadow-checkered  mass  sprawling  beyond  the  Kedron;  and  in  .  1 
all  the  houses,  in  all  the  cities  in  the  world,  the  blind  race  oik 
ephemeral  men  were  sleeping.  The  only  ones  awake  at  that  ima 
hour  were  perhaps  some  woman  waiting  for  the  call  of  her  è 
lover;  perhaps  a  thief  in  ambush  in  the  dark,  his  hand  on  the!  ( 
hilt  of  his  knife;  perhaps  a  philosopher  pondering  the  prob-àa 


xar 


lem,  ^^Does  God  exist?’’ 

But  the  leaders  of  the  Jews  and  their  guards  were  not  asleep  ma 
that  night.  Those  who  should  have  defended  Jesus,  who  might  fTli 
at  least  have  consoled  Him,  those  who  claimed  to  love  Him  js 
and  v;ho  in  their  way  at  times  did  really  love  Him,  were 


la. 


i 


stretched  in  sleep.  But  those  who  hated  Him,  who  wished  to  jt; 
kill  Him,  did  not  sleep.  Caiaphas  was  not  asleep  and  the  only 
Disciple  awake  at  that  moment  was  Judas. 

Until  the  arrival  of  Judas  His  Master  was  alone  with  His  I 
death-like  sadness.  That  Fie  might  feel  less  alone  He  began  I 
to  pray  to  His  Father,  and  once  more  those  imploring  words  I 
rushed  to  His  lips.  The  effort  to  keep  them  back,  the  conflict  |e 
which  convulsed  His  whole  being— because  the  divinity  which  li 
w^as  in  Him  accepted  joyfully  what  it  had  willed,  while  the 
ruddy  clay  which  clothed  it  shuddered— this  human  and  super- 1] 
human  effort  brought  to  Him  at  last  the  victory.  He  was  * 
racked  with  suffering,  but  He  was  triumphant;  lie  was  utterly  ,|r 
spent,  but  He  had  conquered.  •  fo 

The  spirit  had  once  more  overcome  the  flesh;  but  from  i[ 
now  on  His  body  was  merely  a  trunk  which  bled  and  died,  fi 
The  tension  of  the  terrible  struggle  had  done  so  great  a  violence  !! 
to  all  that  v/as  earthly  in  Him  that  the  sweat  stood  out  on  i 
Him,  as  though  He  had  achieved  an  impossible  task,  had  en-  It 
dured  the  unendurable.  The  sweat  poured  from  all  His  per-  li 
son;  but  not  merely  the  natural  sweat  which  runs  down  the  i 
face  of  the  man  walking  in  the  sun,  or  working  in  the  fields  or  It 
raving  in  fever.  The  blood  which  He  had  promised  to  shed  i 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


309 


lor  men  was  shed  first  on  the  grass  of  the  garden  of  Geth- 
lemane.  Great  drops  of  blood  mixed  with  sweat  fell  on  the 
?arth  as  a  first  offering  of  His  conquered  flesh.  It  was  the 
beginning  of  liberation,  almost  a  relief  to  that  humanity  which 
^as  the  greatest  burden  of  His  expiation. 

Then  from  His  lips  wet  with  tears,  wet  with  sweat,  wet 
dth  blood,  arose  a  new  prayer:  my  Father,  if  this  cup 

lay  not  pass  away  from  me,  except  I  drink  it,  thy  will  be 
one.  Not  my  will,  but  thine,  be  done.” 

Gone  now  was  any  trace  of  cowardly  shrinking;  the  will, 
lat  is  the  individual,  abdicated  in  the  obedience  which  alone 
an  assure  the  freedom  of  the  universal.  He  is  no  longer  a 
lan,  but  Man;  the  Man  one  with  God,  wish  that  which 
Tou  wisheth.”  From  that  moment  His  victory  over  death 
>  assured,  because  he  who  gives  himself  v^rholly  to  the  Eter- 
al  cannot  die.  ^Tor  whosoever  will  save  his  life  shall  lose 
::  and  whosoever  will  lose  his  life  for  my  sake  shall  find  it.” 

He  stood  up  calmed,  and  turned  back  towards  His  Disciples, 
lis  sad  reproof  had  been  vain;  worn  out  and  exhausted,  the 
iree  were  again  sleeping.  But  this  time  Jesus  did  not  call 
lem.  He  had  found  a  consolation  greater  than  any  which 
ley  could  give  Him — and  He  kneeled  down  once  more  to  re¬ 
eat  to  the  Father  those  great  words  of  abnegation,  ‘^Not  my 
ill,  but  thine,  be  done.” 

God  was  no  longer  to  be  asked  to  be  the  servant  of  man. 
p  to  that  time  men  had  asked  Him  to  satisfy  their  particular 
ishes  in  exchange  for  canticles  and  offerings.  I  wish  for 
rosperity,  said  the  man  who  prayed,  for  safety,  for  strength, 
)r  flowering  fields,  for  the  ruin  of  my  enemies.  But  now 
Ihrist,  the  Over-turner,  has  come  to  transpose  the  common 
rayer,  ^‘Not  what  is  pleasing  to  me,  but  what  is  pleasing  to 
'hee.  Thy  will  be  done,  on  earth  as  it  is  in  Heaven.”  Blessed- 
ess  can  only  come  as  a  result  of  perfect  harmony  between 
le  sovereign  will  of  the  Father  and  the  subordinate  will  of 
lan,  as  a  result  of  the  convergence  and  identity  of  those  two 
dlls.  What  if  the  will  of  God  give  me  into  the  hands  of  the 
)rturers  and  fastens  me  like  an  evil  and  malignant  beast  upon 
wo  crossed  beams  of  wood?  If  I  believe  in  the  Father  as  a 

<k 


310 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


Father,  I  know  that  He  loves  me  more  than  I  could  love  my¬ 
self,  and  that  He  knows  more  than  I  could  know,  therefore 
He  can  wish  only  for  what  is  best  for  me  even  if  that  best  to  i 
human  eyes  seems  the  most  dreadful  evil;  and  I  wish  for  what  . 
the  Father  wills.  If  His  foolishness  is  unimaginably  more  wise  i 
than  our  wisdom,  martyrdom  given  by  Him  will  be  incom¬ 
parably  better  than  any  earthly  pleasures. 

What  if  the  Disciples  slept?  \^at  if  all  men  slept?  Christ 
was  no  longer  alone.  He  was  content  to  suffer,  content  to  die. 
He  had  found  His  peace  under  the  hammer-stroke  of  anguish. 

Now  He  can  listen  almost  longingly  for  the  footsteps  of  ^ 
Judas. 

For  a  time  He  hears  only  the  beating  of  His  own  heart,  so 
much  calmer  than  at  first,  now  that  the  horror  is  nearer.  But 
after  some  moments.  He  hears  approaching  the  sound  of 
cautious  shuffling,  and  there  among  the  bushes  which  border 
the  road  red  Bickerings  of  light  appear  and  disappear  in  the  ^ 
darkness.  They  are  the  servants  of  the  assassins  who  are  fol¬ 
lowing  Iscariot  along  the  path. 

Jesus  turns  to  the  Disciples,  still  asleep,  “Behold  the  hour 
is  come  ;  rise,  let  us  go.  Lo,  he  that  betrayeth  me  is  at  hand.” 

The  eight  other  Disciples,  sleeping  farther  away,  are  already 
aroused  by  the  noise,  but  have  no  time  to  answer  the  Master 
because  while  He  is  still  speaking  the  crowd  comes  up  and  ^ 
stops. 

THE  HOUR  OF  DARKNESS 

It  was  the  rabble  who  swarmed  around  the  Temple,  paid 
by  the  Sanhedrin;  bunglingly  made  over  for  the  time  being 
into  warriors;  sweepers,  and  door-keepers,  the  lower  parasites 
of  the  sanctuary,  who  had  taken  up  swords  in  place  of  brooms 
and  keys.  There  were  many  of  them,  a  great  multitude,  so 
the  Evangelists  say,  although  they  knew  they  were  going  out 
against  only  twelve  men,  who  had  only  two  swords.  It  is  not 
credible  that  there  were  Roman  soldiers  among  them  and  cer-  ^ 
tainly  not  “a  captain,”  as  John  says,  an  officer  over  a  thousand 
men.  Caiaphas  wished  to  make  Christ  a  prisoner  before  he 


■ 


presented  Him  to  the  procurator,  and  the  few  forces  at  his 
disposition  (the  last  vestiges  of  David^s  army)  with  the  addi¬ 
tion  of  some  clients  and  relatives  were  enough  to  carry  out 
the  far-from-dangerous  capture. 

This  haphazard  mob  had  come  with  torches  and  lanterns  al¬ 
most  as  if  out  for  an  evening  celebration.  The  pallid  faces 
of  the  disciples,  the  livid  face  of  Judas  seemed  to  flicker  in 
the  red  lights.  Christ  offered  His  face,  stained  with  blood 
but  more  luminous  than  the  lights,  to  Judas’  kiss.  ‘‘Friend, 
wherefore  art  thou  come?  Betrayest  thou  the  Son  of  Man 
with  a  kiss?”  He  knew  what  Judas  came  to  do,  and  He  knew 
that  this  kiss  was  the  first  of  His  tortures  and  the  most  un¬ 
endurable.  This  kiss  was  the  signal  for  the  guards  who  did 
not  know  the  delinquent  by  sight.  “Whomsoever  I  shall  kiss, 
that  same  is  He:  take  Him  and  lead  Him  away  safely,”  the 
merchant  of  blood  had  told  the  rough  crowd  who  followed  him 
as  they  came  along  the  road.  But  that  kiss  was  at  once  the 
first  and  the  most  horrible  sullying  of  those  lips  which  had 
pronounced  the  most  heavenly  words  ever  spoken  here  in  the 
inferno  of  our  earth.  The  spitting,  the  buffeting,  the  blows  of 
the  Jewish  rabble  and  of  the  Roman  soldiers,  and  the  sponge 
dipped  in  vinegar,  were  to  be  less  intolerable  than  that  kiss,  the 
kiss  of  a  mouth  which  had  called  Him  friend  and  Master, 
which  had  drunk  from  His  cup,  which  had  eaten  from  His 
dish. 

As  soon  as  the  sign  was  given  the  boldest  came  up  to  their 
enemy. 

“Whom  seek  ye?” 

“Jesus  of  Nazareth.” 

“I  am  he.”  He  had  scarcely  said  “I  am  he”  when  the 
curs  fell  backward,  either  at  the  sound  of  His  tranquil  voice 
or  at  the  light  of  those  divine  eyes.  But  even  at  such  a  moment 
Jesus  took  thought  for  His  friends  “I  have  told  you  that  I 
am  He,  if  therefore  ye  seek  me,  let  these  go  their  way.” 

At  the  moment,  profiting  by  the  confusion  of  the  guards, 
Simon,  coming  suddenly  to  himself  from  his  sleep  and  from 
his  panic,  laid  his  hand  to  a  sword  and  cut  off  the  ear  of 
Malchus,  a  servant  of  Caiaphas.  Peter  on  that  night  was  full 


312 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


of  contradictory  impulses;  after  the  supper  he  had  sworn  that 
no  matter  what  happened  he  would  never  leave  Jesus;  then 
in  the  garden  he  fell  asleep  and  could  not  keep  himself  awake; 
after  that,  tardily  he  set  himself  up  as  a  militant  defender; 
and  a  little  later  he  was  to  deny  that  he  had  ever  known  his 
Master.  Simon’s  untimely  and  futile  action  was  at  once  re¬ 
pudiated  by  Christ:  “Put  up  thy  sword  into  the  sheath,  for 
all  they  that  take  the  sword  shall  perish  by  the  sword.  The 
cup  which  my  Father  hath  given  me,  shall  I  not  drink  it?” 
And  He  offered  His  hands  to  the  nearest  rogues  who  made  all 
haste  to  tie  them  with  the  rope  which  they  had  brought.  While 
they  were  busy  tying  Him,  the  prisoner  accused  them  of  cow¬ 
ardice.  “Are  ye  come  out,  as  against  a  thief,  with  swords  and 
staves  to  take  me?  When  I  was  daily  with  you  in  the  temple 
ye  stretched  forth  no  hands  against  me:  but  this  is  your  hour 
and  the  power  of  darkness.” 

He  is  the  Light  of  the  world,  and  the  powers  of  darkness 
seek  to  extinguish  it;  but  they  can  obscure  it  only  for  a  short 
time,  as  on  a  July  noon  when  the  sun  is  suddenly  covered 
by  a  dark  storm-cloud  but  an  hour  afterwards  shines  out 
again,  higher  and  more  majestic  than  ever.  The  guards,  eager 
to  return  triumphantly  and  to  receive  their  fees,  did  not  trouble 
to  answer;  they  dragged  Him  by  the  rope  towards  the  road 
to  Jerusalem  as  butchers  drag  the  ox  to  the  slaughter-house. 
Then,  confesses  Matthew,  “.  .  .  all  the  disciples  forsook  him, 
and  fled.”  Their  Master  forbade  them  to  defend  Him;  instead 
of  blasting  His  enemies  the  Messiah  offered  His  hands  to  be 
bound;  the  Saviour  was  powerless  to  save  Himself.  What 
could  they  do  but  disappear  so  that  they  might  not  also  be 
brought  before  those  powers  which  yesterday  they  had  boasted 
of  overthrowing,  but  which  now,  in  the  flickering  of  the  lan¬ 
terns  and  the  swords,  seemed  suddenly  very  formidable  to  their 
distracted  minds?  And  only  two  followed  the  infamous  pro¬ 
cession,  and  they  from  a  safe  distance.  We  shall  see  them 
later  in  the  court-yard  of  Caiaphas’  house. 

All  this  bustle  av/akened  a  young  man  who  had  been  sleep¬ 
ing  in  the  house  in  the  grove  of  olives.  Inquisitive  like  all 
young  men,  he  did  not  take  the  time  to  dress,  but  wrapping 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


313 


a  sheet  about  him,  stepped  out  to  see  what  was  happening. 
The  guards  thought  him  a  disciple  who  had  not  had  time  to 
escape,  and  laid  hands  on  him,  but  the  young  man,  casting 
off  the  sheet,  left  it  in  their  hands  and  fled  from  them  naked. 

No  one  has  ever  known  the  identity  of  this  mysterious  man 
awakened  from  his  sleep,  who  appeared  suddenly  in  the  night, 
and  as  suddenly  disappeared.  Perhaps  he  was  the  youthful 
Mark,  the  only  one  of  the  Evangelists  who  tells  this  story.  If 
it  were  Mark,  it  is  possible  that  on  that  night  the  involuntary 
witness  of  the  beginning  of  the  Passion  first  conceived  the 
impulse  to  become,  as  Mark  did,  its  first  historian. 

ANNAS 

In  a  short  time  the  criminal  was  taken  to  the  house  which 
Annas  shared  with  his  son-in-law,  the  High  Priest  Caiaphas. 
Although  the  night  was  now  well  advanced,  and  although  the 
assembly  had  been  warned  the  day  before,  that  Caiaphas 
hoped  to  capture  the  blasphemer  early  in  the  morning,  many 
of  the  Jews  were  still  in  bed  and  the  prosecution  could  not 
begin  at  once.  In  order  that  the  common  people  might  not 
have  time  to  rise  in  rebellion,  nor  Pilate  to  take  thought,  the 
leaders  were  in  haste  to  finish  the  affair  that  very  morning. 
Some  of  the  guards  who  returned  from  the  Mount  of  Olives 
were  sent  to  awake  the  more  important  Scribes  and  Elders, 
and  in  the  meantime  old  Annas,  who  had  not  slept  all  that 
night,  set  himself  on  his  own  account  to  question  this  false 
Prophet. 

Annas,  son  of  Seth,  had  been  for  seven  years  High  Priest, 
and  though  deposed  in  the  year  14  under  Tiberius,  he 
was  still  the  real  primate  of  the  Jewish  Church.  A  Sadducee, 
head  of  one  of  the  most  aggressive  and  wealthy  families  of 
the  ecclesiastical  patriarchate,  he  was  still,  through  his  son-in- 
law,  leader  of  his  caste.  Five  of  his  sons  were  afterwards 
High  Priests,  and  one  of  them,  also  called  Annas,  caused  James, 
the  brother  of  the  Lord,  to  be  stoned  to  death. 

Jesus  was  led  before  him.  It  was  the  first  time  that  the 
wood-worker  of  Nazareth  found  Himself  face  to  face  with  che 


314 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


religious  head  of  His  people^  with  His  greatest  enemy.  Up  i 
to  that  time  He  had  met  only  the  subalterns  in  the  Temple,  j 
the  common  soldiers,  the  Scribes  and  Pharisees;  now  He  was  1 
before  the  head,  and  He  was  no  longer  the  accuser  but  the  i 
accused.  This  was  the  first  questioning  of  that  day.  In  the 
space  of  a  few  hours,  four  authorities  examined  Him;  two 
rulers  from  the  Temple,  Annas  and  Caiaphas;  and  two  tem¬ 
poral  rulers,  Antipas  and  Pilate. 

The  first  question  Annas  put  to  Jesus  was  to  ask  Him  who 
His  disciples  were.  The  old  political  priest  who  like  all  the  other 
Sadducees  gave  no  credence  to  the  foolish  stories  about  the 
coming  of  a  Messiah,  wished  to  know  first  of  all  who  were  the  i 
followers  of  the  new  Prophet,  and  from  what  rank  of  society  : 
He  had  picked  them  up,  so  that  he  might  determine  how  far  i 
the  seditious  ulcer  had  progressed.  But  Jesus  looked  at  Him  ^ 
without  answering.  How  could  that  dove-huckster  have  ^ 
thought  that  Jesus  could  betray  those  who  had  betrayed  Him?  i 

Then  Annas  asked  about  His  doctrine.  Jesus  answered  that  i 
it  was  not  for  Him  to  explain:  ‘T  spake  openly  to  the  world;  I 
I  ever  taught  in  the  synagogue  and  in  the  temple,  whither  the  • 
Jews  always  resort;  and  in  secret  have  I  said  nothing.  Why  i 
askest  thou  me?  ask  them  which  heard  me,  what  I  have  said  i 
unto  them:  behold,  they  know  what  I  said.’’ 

This  was  the  truth.  Jesus  was  not  esoteric.  Even  if  He 
sometimes  said  to  His  Disciples  words  that  He  did  not  repeat 
in  the  open  places  of  the  city.  He  exhorted  them  to  cry  out  ; 
on  the  housetops  what  He  told  them  in  the  house.  But  Annas  : 
must  have  made  a  wry  face  at  an  answer  which  pre-supposed 
an  honest  trial,  for  one  of  the  officers  standing  by  struck  Jesus 
with  the  palm  of  his  hand,  saying,  ‘^Answerest  thou  the  high 
priest  so?” 

This  blow  from  the  quick-tempered  attendant  was  the  be¬ 
ginning  of  the  insults  which  were  henceforth  rained  upon  Christ 
up  to  the  cross.  But  He  who  had  been  struck,  with  His  cheek 
reddened  by  the  boor,  turned  towards  the  man  who  had  struck 
Him,  ‘Hf  I  have  spoken  evil,  bear  witness  of  the  evil:  but  if 
well,  why  smitest  thou  me?” 

The  rogue,  abashed  by  such  calm,  found  no  answer.  Annas 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


315 


began  to  see  that  this  Galilean  was  no  common  adventurer, 
and  he  was  all  the  more  eager  to  get  Him  out  of  the  way. 
Seeing,  however,  that  he  was  not  succeeding  in  extracting  any¬ 
thing  from  Him,  he  sent  Him  bound  to  Caiaphas,  the  High 
Priest,  so  that  the  fiction  of  a  legal  prosecution  might  begin 
at  once. 

THE  COCK  CROWS 

Only  two  of  the  fleeing  Disciples  repented  of  their  cowardice, 
and  trembling  in  the  shadow  of  the  walls,  followed  from 
afar  the  swaying  lanterns  which  accompanied  Christ  to  the 
den  of  fratricides:  Simon,  son  of  Jonas,  and  John,  son  of 
Zebedee. 

John,  who  was  known  in  the  household  of  Caiaphas,  went 
into  the  courtyard  of  the  building  with  Jesus,  but  Simon,  more 
shamefaced,  or  not  so  bold,  did  not  enter  and  stood  at  the 
door  without:  then  after  a  few  moments  John,  not  seeing  his 
companion,  and  wishing  to  have  him  at  hand  for  sympathy 
or  defense,  went  out  and  persuaded  the  suspicious  doorkeeper 
to  let  Peter  also  come  in.  But  as  he  stepped  through  the 
door,  the  woman  recognized  him:  ‘‘Art  not  thou  also  one  of 
his  disciples?” 

But  Peter  took  on  an  offended  air,  “I  know  not,  neither 
understand  I  what  thou  say  est.  I  know  him  not.” 

And  he  sat  down  with  John  near  the  brazier  which  the  serv¬ 
ants  had  kindled  in  the  courtyard  because,  although  it  was 
in  April,  the  night  was  cold.  But  the  woman  would  not  give 
up  her  idea,  and  coming  to  the  fire  and  looking  at  him  earn¬ 
estly,  said,  “Thou  also  wast  with  Jesus  of  Nazareth,”  and  he 
denied  again  with  curses,  “Woman,  I  know  him  not!” 

The  gate-keeper,  shaking  her  head,  turned  back  to  her  gate, 
but  the  men  aroused  by  these  heated  denials  looked  at  him 
more  closely  and  said,  “Surely  thou  art  one  of  them:  for  thou 
art  a  Galilean,  and  thy  speech  agreeth  thereto.” 

Then  Simon  began  to  curse  and  to  swear,  but  another,  a 
kinsman  of  Malchus  whose  ear  Peter  had  cut  off,  cut  short  his 
testimony:  “Did  I  not  see  thee  in  the  garden  with  him?” 


3i6 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


But  Peter,  now  hopelessly  involved  in  lies,  began  again  to 
protest  that  they  had  mistaken  him  for  another  and  that  he 
was  not  one  of  the  friends  of  the  Man. 

At  this  very  moment  Jesus,  bound  among  the  guards,  crossed 
the  courtyard  after  His  colloquy  with  Annas,  passing  to  the 
other  part  of  the  palace,  where  Caiaphas  lived:  and  He  heard 
the  words  of  Simon  and  looked  at  Him.  For  just  one  moment 
Fie  turned  His  eyes  upon  Simon,  those  eyes  where  Simon, 
denying  Him  now,  had  once  recognized  the  gleam  of  divinity. 

For  an  instant  only  He  looked  at  him  with  eyes  whose  gentle¬ 
ness  was  more  unendurable  than  any  contempt.  And  this  look 
pierced  for  all  time  the  pitiable,  distracted  heart  of  the  fisher¬ 
man.  To  the  day  of  his  death  he  could  never  forget  those  sad, 
mild  eyes  fixed  on  him  in  that  terrible  night;  those  eyes  which 
in  one  flash  expressed  more  and  moved  him  more  than  a  thou¬ 
sand  words. 

‘‘Thou  also  who  wast  the  first,  of  whom  I  hoped  most,  the 
hardest  but  the  most  zealous,  the  most  ignorant  but  the  most 
fervent,  thou  also,  Simon,  the  same  who  cried  out  my  true 
name  near  Cassarea,  thou  also  who  knowest  all  my  words  and 
hast  slept  with  thy  head  on  my  cloak  and  hast  kissed  me  so 
many  times  with  those  lips  which  now  deny  me,  thou  also, 
Simon  Peter,  son  of  Jonas,  deny  me  before  those  who  are 
about  to  kill  me!  I  was  right  that  day  when  I  called  thee 
a  stumbling  block  and  reproached  thee  with  thinking  not  like 
God  but  like  men.  Thou  mightest  at  least  have  fled  away 
as  the  others  did  if  thou  hadst  not  the  strength  to  drink  with 
me  the  cup  of  infamy  which  I  had  foretold  to  thee.  Flee  away 
now  that  I  may  see  thee  no  more  until  the  day  when  I  shall 
be  truly  free  and  thou  shalt  be  truly  made  over  by  faith.  If 
thou  fearest  for  thy  life  why  art  thou  here?  If  thou  fearest 
not,  why  dost  thou  deny  me?  Even  Judas  at  the  last  has  been 
more  faithful  than  thou:  he  came  with  my  enemies,  but  he 
did  not  deny  that  he  knew  me.  Simon,  Simon,  I  foretold  that 
thou  wouldst  leave  me  like  the  others,  but  now  thou  art  more 
cruel  than  the  others.  I  have  pardoned  thee  from  my  heart.  | 

I  am  about  to  die,  and  I  pardon  him  who  brings  me  to  death,  I 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST  317 

and  thee  also;  and  I  love  thee  as  I  have  always  loved  thee, 

1  but  canst  thou  forgive  thyself?” 

Under  the  weight  of  this  look,  Simon  hung  his  head  and  his 
I  heart  beat  furiously  in  his  breast.  Not  for  his  very  life  could 
I  he  have  brought  out  another  ‘^No.”  His  face  burned  with  an 
p  intolerable  heat  as  if  the  brazier  before  him  had  been  the 

(mouth  of  Hell.  He  was  torn  by  an  unbearable  tumult  of  pas¬ 
sion  and  of  remorse;  in  one  breath  he  seemed  frozen,  in  the 
i  next  all  his  body  flamed.  A  moment  before  he  had  said  that 
i  he  had  never  known  Jesus,  and  now  it  seemed  to  him  that 
^  he  had  spoken  truly,  that  at  this  moment  he  knew  Him  for  the 
i  first  time:  that  he  finally  understood  who  He  was,  as  if  those 
K  eyes  full  of  loving  grief  had  pierced  him  with  a  flash  like  an 
i  archangel’s  sword. 

He  was  scarcely  able  to  drag  himself  to  his  feet  and  to 
I  stumble  out  to  the  door.  As  he  went  out  into  the  street  in 
li  the  silent,  solitary  darkness  a  distant  cock  crew.  This  gay, 
f;:  bold  note  was  for  Peter  like  the  cry  which  awakens  a  sleeper 
1 1  from  his  nightmare.  Then  in  the  dim  light  of  dawn  the  last 
I  stars  saw  a  man  staggering  along  like  a  drunkard,  his  head 
It  hidden  in  his  cloak,  his  shoulders  shaken  by  the  sobs  of  a 
I  despairing  lament. 

Weep,  Peter,  now  that  God  mercifully  grants  you  the  grace 
of  tears,  weep  for  yourself  and  for  Him,  weep  for  Judas,  your 
I  traitor  brother;  weep  for  your  fleeing  brothers,  weep  for  the 
death  of  Him  who  is  dying  to  save  your  poor  soul,  for  all  those 
who  will  come  after  you  and  who  will  do  as  you  have  done, 
deny  their  Saviour,  and  who  will  not  pay  for  their  redemption 
by  repentance.  Weep  for  all  the  apostates,  for  all  the  others 
who  will  deny  Him,  all  those  who  will  say  as  you  have  said, 

’  ‘‘I  am  not  one  of  His  disciples!”  Who  of  us  has  not  done 
at  least  once  what  Simon  Peter  did?  Who  of  us,  born  in 
the  Church  of  Christ,  having  prayed  to  Him  with  our  childish 
lips,  having  knelt  before  His  blood-stained  face,  has  not  said, 
fearing  a  mocking  smile,  “I  never  knew  Him.” 

Thou  at  least,  unfortunate  Simon,  although  thou  wast  Peter 
the  rock,  wept  bitterly  and  hid  in  thy  cloak  thy  face  convulsed 


3i8 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


with  remorse.  And  before  many  days  Christ  risen  from  the  [ 
dead  will  kiss  thee  once  more  because  thy  perjured  mouth  ' 
has  been  washed  clean  forever  by  thy  tears.  1 

'I 

THEN  THE  HIGH  PRIEST  RENT  HIS  CLOTHES  J 

Caiaphas’  real  name  was  Joseph.  Caiaphas  is  a  surname  and  I 
is  the  same  word  as  Cephas,  Simon’s  surname,  that  is  to  say,  | 
Rock.  On  that  Friday  morning’s  dawn,  the  Son  of  Man 
was  caught  between  those  two  rocks  like  a  grain  of  wheat  be-  ■ 
tween  two  millstones.  Simon  Peter  is  the  type  of  the  timid  • 
friends  who  knew  not  how  to  save  Him:  Joseph  Peter,  { 
of  His  enemies,  determined  at  any  cost  to  destroy  Him.  | 
Between  the  denial  of  Simon  and  the  hatred  of  Joseph,  between  | 
the  head  of  the  church  about  to  disappear  and  the  head  of  the 
Church  just  coming  into  existence,  between  those  two  rocks  \ 
Jesus  was  like  wheat  between  the  mill-stones. 

The  Sanhedrin  had  already  come  together  and  was  awaiting  | 
Him.  Together  with  Annas  and  Caiaphas  who  presided, 
there  were  John,  Alexander,  and  all  the  reeking  scum  of  the  i 
upper  classes.  As  a  rule  the  Sanhedrin  was  composed  of  1 
twenty-three  priests,  twenty-three  Scribes,  twenty-three  Elders,  j 
and  two  Presidents,  in  all,  seventy-one.  But  on  this  occasion  | 
some  were  absent,  those  who  had  more  fear  of  an  uprising  of  5 
the  people  than  hatred  for  the  blasphemer,  and  those  few  who  v 

would  not  lift  a  finger  to  condemn  Him,  but  would  not  defend  I 
Him  openly:  among  these  last  were  certainly  Nicodemus,  the  f 
nocturnal  disciple,  and  Joseph  of  Arimathea,  who  was  devoutly  ^ 
to  lay  Jesus  in  His  tomb. 

They  had  come  together  to  ratify  with  a  cloak  of  legality 
the  decree  of  murder  already  written  on  their  hearts.  These 
delegates  from  the  Temple,  from  the  School  and  the  Bank,  , 
burned  with  impatience  to  confirm,  each  for  his  own  reasons, 
their  revengeful  sentence.  The  great  room  of  the  council  al¬ 
ready  full  of  people  was  like  a  den  of  werewolves.  The  new 
day  showed  itself  hesitatingly:  the  orange-colored  tongues  of 
the  torches  were  scarcely  visible  in  the  dim  light  of  dawn. 

In  this  sinister  half-shadow  the  Jews  were  waiting:  aged, 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


319 


portly,  hook-nosed,  harsh,  beetle-browed,  wrapped  in  their» 
white  cloaks,  their  heads  covered,  stroking  their  venerable 
beards,  with  choleric  eyes,  seated  in  a  half  circle,  they  seemed 
a  council  of  sorcerers  awaiting  a  living  offering.  The  rest  of 
the  hall  was  occupied  by  the  clients  of  the  seated  assembly,  by 
guards  with  staves  in  their  hands,  by  the  domestic  servants 
of  the  house.  The  air  was  heavy  and  dense  as  in  a  charnel 
house. 

Jesus,  His  wrists  still  tied  with  ropes,  was  thrust  into  the 
midst  of  this  kennel  like  a  condemned  man  thrown  to  the 
beasts  of  the  Imperial  amphitheater.  Annas  had  gathered  to¬ 
gether  in  all  haste  from  among  the  rabble  some  false  witnesses 
to  make  an  end  of  any  discussion  or  defense.  The  pretense 
of  a  trial  began  with  calling  these  perjurers.  Two  of  them 
came  forward  and  swore  that  they  had  heard  these  words: 

will  destroy  this  temple  that  is  made  with  hands,  and 
within  three  days  I  will  build  another  made  without  hands.” 

At  the  time  and  for  those  hearers  this  accusation  was  a 
very  grave  one,  meaning  nothing  less  than  sacrilege  and  blas¬ 
phemy.  For  in  the  minds  of  its  upholders  the  Temple  of 
Jerusalem  was  the  one  intangible  home  of  the  Lord.  And  to 
threaten  the  Temple  was  to  threaten  their  real  Master,  the 
Master  of  all  the  Jews.  But  Jesus  had  never  said  these  words 
or  at  least  not  in  this  form,  nor  with  this  meaning.  It  is 
true  that  He  had  announced  that  of  the  Temple  not  one  stone 
would  remain  upon  another,  but  not  through  any  action  of 
His.  And  the  reference  to  the  Temple  not  made  with  hands, 
built  up  in  three  days,  was  part  of  another  discourse  in  which 
He  had  spoken  figuratively  of  His  resurrection.  The  false 
witnesses  could  not  even  agree  about  these  words  confusedly 
and  maliciously  repeated,  and  one  statement  from  Jesus  would 
have  been  enough  to  confound  them  utterly.  But  Jesus  held 
His  peace. 

The  High  Priest  could  not  endure  this  silence,  and  stand¬ 
ing  up,  cried  out,  ‘‘Answerest  thou  nothing?  What  is  it  which 
these  witness  against  thee?” 

But  Jesus  answered  nothing. 

These  silences  of  Jesus  were  so  weighty  with  magnetic  elo- 


320 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


quence  that  they  enraged  His  judges.  He  held  His  peace  at 
the  first  questioning  of  Annas.  He  was  silent  now  at  the 
outcry  of  Caiaphas  and  He  was  to  be  silent  with  Antipas  and 
Pilate. 

He  had  made  already,  a  thousand  times,  the  statements  He 
might  have  made  now,  and  any  other  answers  He  might  have 
made  v/ould  either  have  been  misunderstood  by  His  judges,  or 
have  been  used  by  them  as  new  pretexts  for  attacking  Him. 
Superhuman  truths  are  in  their  very  nature  ineffable,  and  only 
a  shadow  of  them  can  be  grasped,  through  a  loving  effort  by 
those  who  already  have  a  faint  divination  of  that  shadow;  and 
even  to  them  this  comes  more  through  the  heart  than  through 
faulty  and  defective  words. 

Jesus  did  not  speak,  but  looked  about  Him  with  Flis  great 
calm  eyes,  at  the  troubled  and  convulsed  faces  of  His  assassins, 
and  for  all  eternity  judged  these  phantom  judges.  In  a  flash 
every  one  of  them  was  weighed  and  condemned  by  that  look 
which  went  straight  to  the  soul.  Were  they  worthy  to  hear 
His  words,  those  flawed,  self-seeking  souls,  empty  and  inane, 
those  of  them  that  are  not  ulcerous  and  moribund?  How  could 
He  ever,  by  the  most  unthinkable  prodigy,  stoop  to  justify 
Himself  before  them? 

Such  self-justification  was  attempted  by  the  son  of  the  mid¬ 
wife,  the  flat-nosed  student  and  rival  of  the  Sophists!  The 
seventy-year-old  arguer,  who  for  so  many  years  had  bored 
the  artisans  and  the  idlers  on  the  market-place,  was  capable 
of  reciting  to  the  judges  of  Athens  an  eloquent  and  carefully 
arranged  oration  of  excuses,  which,  from  the  limits  of  dialectics, 
descended  little  by  little  to  the  sophistries  of  law  courts.  It 
is  true  that  the  ironical  old  man  who  had  set  himself  to  reform 
the  art  of  thinking  rather  than  the  art  of  living,  who  had  not 
been  above  usury,  who,  not  having  his  fill  with  Xantippe,  had 
had  two  children  by  his  concubine  Myra,  and  who  amused 
himself  with  caressing  handsome  young  men  more  than  was 
becoming  for  the  father  of  a  family,  was  ready  to  die,  and  knew 
how  to  die  with  noble  firmness;  but  at  the  bottom  of  his 
heart  he  would  have  preferred  to  descend  into  Hades  by  the 
more  natural  road.  Towards  the  end  of  his  specious  defense. 


I 


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LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


321 


he  tried  to  placate  his  judges  by  recalling  his  old  age  to  them. 
“It  is  useless  to  kill  me  because  I  will  die  very  soon  anyhow’^ 
— and  offered  to  pay  thirty  greater  minae  if  they  would  let 
him  go  in  peace. 

But  Christ  was  neither  a  sophist  nor  a  lawyer,  Christ  whom 
so  many  posthumous  Pilates  have  tried  to  belittle  by  compar¬ 
ing  Him  to  Socrates,  so  inferior  to  Him.  Like  Dante’s  angel. 
He  disdained  human  discussions.  He  answered  with  silence, 
or  if  He  was  forced  to  speak,  spoke  candidly  and  briefly. 
Caiaphas,  exasperated  by  this  disrespectful  taciturnity,  finally 
hit  on  a  way  to  make  him  speak.  “I  adjure  thee  by  the  living 
God,  that  thou  tell  us  whether  thou  be  the  Christ,  the  Son 
of  God.” 

As  long  as  they  conducted  His  trial  with  the  usual  insidious 
procedure,  adducing  falsities  or  asking  Him  about  perfectly 
well-known  truths,  Jesus  said  no  word;  but  even  in  the  in¬ 
famous  mouth  of  the  High  Priest,  the  invocation  to  the  living 
God  was  irresistible.  Jesus  could  not  deny  Himself  to  the 
living  God,  to  the  God  who  will  live  eternally,  and  who  lives 
in  all  of  us,  and  who  was  present  there  even  in  that  lair  of 
demons.  And  yet  He  hesitated  a  moment  before  dazzling  those 
bleared  eyes  with  the  splendor  of  His  formidable  secret. 

“If  I  tell  you,  ye  will  not  believe:  And  if  I  also  ask  you,  ye 
will  not  answer  me.” 

Now  Caiaphas  was  not  alone  in  putting  the  question;  all 
of  them,  excited,  sprang  to  their  feet  and  cried  out,  their 
clawing  fingers  stretched  towards  Him,  “Art  thou  then  the 
Son  of  God?” 

Jesus  could  not,  like  Peter,  deny  the  irrefutable  certainty 
which  was  the  reason  for  His  life  and  for  His  death.  He  was 
responsible  towards  His  own  people  and  towards  all  men. 

!  But,  as  at  Caesarea,  He  wished  others  to  be  the  ones  to  pro- 
'  nounce  His  real  name,  and  when  they  had  said  it  He  did  not 
refuse  it,  even  though  death  were  the  penalty. 

“Ye  say  that  I  am.  I  say  unto  you.  Hereafter  shall  ye  see 
the  Son  of  man  sitting  on  the  right  hand  of  power,  and  coming 
in  the  clouds  of  heaven.” 

He  had  condemned  Himself  out  of  His  own  mouth.  The 


322 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


% 

snarling  pack  about  Him  was  frothing  at  the  mouth  with  de-  \ 
light  and  anger.  In  the  presence  of  His  assassins  He  had  pro-  S 
claimed  what  He  had  secretly  admitted  to  His  most  loving  | 
friends.  Although  they  might  betray  Him,  He  had  not  be-  ^ 
trayed  Himself  or  His  father.  Now  He  was  ready  for  the  last  n 
degradation.  He  had  said  what  He  had  to  say. 

Caiaphas  was  triumphant.  Pretending  a  shocked  horror  % 
which  he  did  not  feel — because  like  all  the  Sadducees  he  had  | 
no  faith  whatever  in  the  apocalyptic  writers  and  cared  about  t 
nothing  but  the  fees  and  honors  of  the  Temple — he  rent  his 
priestly  garments,  crying  out,  ^^He  hath  spoken  blasphemy! 
What  further  need  have  we  of  witnesses?  behold,  now  ye  have  »j 
heard  his  blasphemy.  What  think  ye?”  i 

And  all  the  noisy  kennel  bayed  out  their  answer,  ‘‘He  is 
guilty  of  death.” 

And  without  any  further  examination,  without  a  single  pro-  < 
test,  they  all  condemned  Him  to  death  as  a  blasphemer  and  j 
false  prophet. 

The  comedy  of  legal  pretense  was  played  to  an  end,  and 
the  cloaked  ghosts  felt  themselves  relieved  of  an  immense 
weight.  It  had  cost  the  High  Priest  a  garment  and  he  let  the 
torn  pieces  hang  like  glorious  symbols  of  victorious  battle.  ) 
He  did  not  know  that  on  that  very  day  a  garment  more 
precious  than  any  of  his  was  to  be  torn,  and  he  did  not  dream 
that  his  gesture  was  a  symbolic  recognition  of  another  death- 
sentence.  The  priesthood  of  which  he  was  the  head  was 
henceforth  disqualified  and  abolished  forever.  His  successors 
were  to  be  mere  semblances  of  priests,  spurious  and  illegiti¬ 
mate,  and  in  a  few  years  the  sumptuous  garment  of  marble 
and  masonry  of  the  Jewish  sanctuary  was  to  be  rent  by  the 
Roman  rabble. 

AND  WHEN  THEY  HAD  BLINDFOLDED  HIM 

When  the  tragi-comedy  acted  by  the  masters  had 
ended  in  a  death-sentence,  the  devils’  band  of  subalterns 
had  their  turn.  While  the  high  officials  went  apart  to  take 
counsel  on  the  manner  of  securing  the  ratification  from  the  Pro- 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


323 


I 

i  curator  and  executing  the  death  sentence  with  all  speed,  Jesus 
'  was  thrown  as  prey  to  the  rabble  in  the  Palace,  as  the  offal 
of  the  slain  animal  is  thrown  to  the  pack  which  has  taken 
part  in  the  hunt.  The  ruffians  who  lived  upon  the  leavings 
of  the  Temple  felt  that  they  had  as  their  perquisite  the  right 
to  some  amusement.  Man,  the  beast,  when  he  is  certain  of 
impunity,  knows  no  more  pleasing  recreation  than  to  wreak 
himself  upon  the  defenseless,  especially  if  the  defenseless  is 
innocent.  Our  bestial  nature,  crouching  untamed  at  the  bot¬ 
tom  of  every  human  heart,  rushes  out  bold  and  snarling;  the 
face  becomes  a  muzzle,  teeth  are  tusks,  hands  appear  what 
they  really  are,  claws,  the  articulate  sounds  of  human  speech 
vanish  in  snarlings  and  growlings.  If  a  drop  of  blood  reddens 
to  the  view,  they  jostle  each  other  to  lick  it  up:  there  is  no 
more  intoxicating  liquor  than  blood:  it  is  far  more  stimulating 
than  wine,  and  far  fairer  to  see,  red  as  it  is,  than  the  water  of 
Pilate. 

But  tigerishness  breaking  loose  readily  takes  the  form  of 
play;  even  tigers  are  sportive,  even  children,  as  soon  as  they 
begin  to  grow  strong  at  all,  are  tigerish.  The  captors  of  Christ, 
waiting  for  foreign  authority  to  confirm  the  death  sentence  of 
the  most  innocent  of  their  brothers,  meant  to  give  Christ  a 
humorous  foretaste  of  His  sufferings.  They  had  permission 
to  jest  with  their  King,  to  divert  themselves  with  their  God. 
And  they  felt  that  they  really  deserved  some  amusement;  they 
had  been  awake  all  night  long,  and  the  night  had  been  cold: 
and  then  the  march  up  to  the  Mount  of  Olives,  fearing  re¬ 
sistance,  a  well-grounded  fear,  since  one  of  them  had  had  his 
ear  stricken  off  ;  and  then  the  long  wait,  till  dawn,  a  very  tiring 
business  especially  on  those  festal  days  when  the  city  and  the 
Temple  were  full  of  foreigners  and  there  was  so  much  more 
for  every  one  to  do. 

But  they  did  not  know  how  to  begin.  He  was  tied  and  his 
friends  had  disappeared.  But  this  man  who  looked  at  them 
with  an  expression  they  had  never  seen  till  then,  with  a  steady 
;  look  which  seemed  beyond  all  earthly  things  and  yet  searched 
them  out  within  like  a  ray  of  troublesome  sunshine — this  man, 
bound,  exhausted,  the  fresh  sweat  on  His  face  softening  the 


324 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


drops  of  dried  blood  on  His  cheeks,  this  insignificant  man, 
this  defenseless  provincial  with  no  protecting  patrons,  con¬ 
demned  to  death  by  the  highest  and  holiest  tribunal  of  tlie 
Jewish  people,  this  human  rubbish  destined  to  the  cross  of 
slaves  and  thieves,  this  laughingstock  v^hom  the  authorities 
had  given  over  to  their  abuse  like  a  puppet  at  the  saturnalia, 
this  man  who  did  not  speak  nor  complain  nor  weep,  but  who 
looked  on  them  as  if  He  had  compassion  on  them,  as  a  father 
might  look  at  his  sick  child,  as  a  friend  might  look  at  a  de¬ 
lirious  friend,  this  man,  mocked  by  all,  inspired  in  their  worth¬ 
less  souls  a  mysterious  reverence. 

But  one  of  the  Scribes  or  the  Elders  gave  the  example,  and 
spat  at  Jesus  as  he  passed  by  Him.  He  was  too  careful  of 
His  ritual  cleanliness  to  contaminate  His  newly  washed  hands, 
ready  for  the  Passover,  by  touching  an  enemy  of  God,  who, 
near  to  death,  was  already  impure  like  a  corpse.  But  saliva: 
what  is  saliva?  Refuse  of  the  body,  contempt  materialized  in 
a  liquid. 

And  on  that  face  illumined  by  the  early  morning  sun  and 
by  imprisoned  divinity,  on  that  face  transfigured  by  the  light 
of  the  sun  and  by  love’s  light,  on  the  golden  face  of  Christ, 
the  spittle  of  the  Jews  covered  the  first  blood  of  the  Passion. 
But  for  the  rabble  of  the  servants  and  the  guards  spitting  was 
not  enough,  nor  were  they  afraid  of  sullying  their  hands.  The 
example  of  the  leaders  had  overcome  the  impression  made  on 
them  by  the  condemned  man’s  sad  and  brotherly  look.  The 
guards  who  were  nearest  Him  struck  Him  in  the  face;  those 
who  could  not  strike  His  face  rained  dovm  blows  and  threats, 
and  the  words  which  came  from  the  mouths  of  those  insensate 
men  wounded  Him  more  cruelly  than  blows.  |llj 

That  face,  which  had  been  white  as  a  hawthorn  blossomij 
and  shining  like  sunlight,  darkened  into  the  livid  purple  ofl-ij, 
beaten  flesh.  The  fair,  gracious  body,  reeling  v/ith  blows,  stag-yj, 
gered  in  the  midst  of  the  heaving  crowd.  Christ  said  no  word[i]j; 
to  those  who  vomited  out  on  Him  the  appalling  contents  ofb!| 
their  souls.  He  had  answered  the  guard  who  had  struck  Him  r): 
in  the  presence  of  Annas,  asking  him  to  correct  Him  if  HeH 
had  spoken  ill;  for  this  ribald  mob  let  loose  He  had  no  an-:i3 


f-. 

ti  < 


1 


1 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST  325 

I  swer.  But  one  of  them  more  quick-witted  or  more  childish 

■  i  than  the  others  had  an  idea  :  he  took  a  dirty  cloth  and  with 
I  it  covered  the  bleeding,  buffeted  face,  tying  the  corners  behind. 

^  I  And  he  said  :  ^Tet  us  play  blind  man’s  buff.  This  man  boasts 
^  of  being  a  prophet;  let  us  see  if  he  can  guess  which  of  us  is 
^  striking  him.” 

®  Christ’s  face  was  covered.  Was  there,  in  the  action  of  the 
^  ruffians,  an  unconsciously  compassionate  desire  to  spare  Him, 
at  least,  the  sight  of  His  brothers  become  like  beasts?  Or  was 
'  that  look  of  suffering  love  really  unendurable  to  them?  With 
childish  cruelty,  they  arranged  themselves  in  a  circle  about 
\  Him  and  first  one  and  then  another  twitched  a  fold  of  His 
‘  garment,  gave  Him  a  blow  on  the  shoulder,  thrust  Him  in  the 
>1  back,  struck  Him  with  a  staff  over  the  head:  ^Trophesy!  Who 
'!  is  it  that  smote  thee?” 

■  Why  did  He  not  answer?  Had  He  not  predicted  the  ruin 
“  of  the  Temple,  wars  and  earthquakes,  the  coming  of  the  Son 

I  of  Man  on  clouds  and  many  other  idle  stories?  How  was  it 
^  that  now  He  could  not  make  such  an  easy  guess,  give  the 

*  i  name  of  a  person  so  close  at  hand?  What  sort  of  a  prophet 
^  was  this?  Had  he  lost  His  power  all  at  once,  or  had  He  never 

had  it?  He  might  be  able  to  make  those  poor  countrified 

*  Galileans  believe  His  stories,  but  here  we  are  in  Jerusalem, 
^  i  the  city  which  understands  prophets  and  kills  them  when  thev 
“  do  not  show  a  proper  spirit.  Luke  adds,  “And  many  other 

things  blasphemously  spake  they  against  him.” 

“  But  Caiaphas  and  the  others  were  in  haste  and  thought  that 
I  the  servile  pack  had  amused  itself  long  enough.  The  false 
king  must  be  taken  to  Pilate  that  his  sentence  be  confirmed: 
the  Sanhedrin  could  pronounce  judgment,  but  since  Judea 
was  under  Roman  rule,  it  had  no  longer,  unfortunately,  the 
Jus  Gladii.  And  the  Fligh  Priests,  Scribes  and  Elders,  set  out 
for  the  Palace  of  the  Procurator,  followed  by  the  guards  lead¬ 
ing  Jesus  with  ropes,  and  by  the  yelling  horde  which  grew 
*  larger  as  they  went  along  the  street. 


326 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


PONTIUS  PILATE  j 

Since  A.  D.  26,  Pontius  Pilate  had  been  Procurator  in  the  j 
name  of  Tiberius  Csesar.  Historians  know  nothing  of  him  ^ 
before  his  arrival  in  Judea.  If  the  name  comes  from  Pileatus  a 
it  may  be  supposed  that  he  was  a  freedman  or  descendant  | 
of  freedmen,  since  the  Pileo,  or  skull  cap,  was  the  head  gear  j 
of  freed  slaves. 

He  had  been  in  Judea  only  a  few  years,  but  long  enough  to  I 
draw  upon  himself  the  bitterest  hate  of  those  over  whom  he  À 
ruled.  It  is  true  that  all  our  information  about  him  comes  ! 
from  Jews  and  Christians,  who  were,  of  course,  his  declared  ì 
enemies;  but  it  appears  that  he  finally  lost  favor  even  with  his  I 
masters,  since  in  A.  D.  36  the  Governor  of  Syria,  Lucius  , 
Vitellius,  sent  him  to  Rome  to  justify  himself  before  Tiberius. 
The  Emperor  died  before  Pilate  arrived  in  the  metropolis,  but 
according  to  tradition,  he  was  exiled  by  Caligula,  exiled  into  ^ 
Gaul,  where  he  killed  himself. 

In  the  first  place  the  hatred  of  the  Jews  came  from  the  pro¬ 
found  scorn  which  he  showed  from  the  start  for  this  stiff¬ 
necked,  indocile  people,  who  must  have  seemed  to  him,  brought  ^ 
up  in  Roman  ideas,  like  a  snake  pit  of  venomous  serpents — a  - 
low,  dirty  crowd,  scarcely  worthy  to  be  tamed  by  the  cudgels 
of  the  mercenaries.  To  have  an  idea  of  Pilate’s  personality,  i 
make  a  mental  picture  of  an  English  Viceroy  of  India,  a  sub-  1 
scriber  to  the  Times,  a  reader  of  John  Stuart  Mill  and  Shaw —  - 
v/ith  Byron  and  Swinburne  on  his  bookshelves — destined  to 
administer  the  government  over  a  ragged,  captious,  hungry 
and  turbulent  people,  wrangling  among  themselves  over  a 
confusion  of  castes  and  mythologies  and  superstitions  for 
which  their  ruler  feels  in  his  heart  the  profoundest 
aversion,  looking  down  on  them  from  the  height  of  his  dignity 
as  a  white  man,  a  European,  a  Briton  and  a  Liberal.  Pilate, 
as  shown  by  his  questions  put  to  Jesus,  was  one  of  those 
skeptics  of  the  Roman  decadence  corrupted  with  Pyrrhonism, 
a  devotee  of  Epicurus,  an  encyclopedist  of  Hellenism  without 
any  belief  in  the  gods  of  his  country,  nor  any  belief  that  any 
real  God  existed  at  all.  The  idea  certainly  can  never  have 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


327 


f 


occurred  to  Pilate  that  the  true  God  could  be  found  in  this  ver¬ 
min-ridden,  superstitious  mob,  in  the  midst  of  this  factious  and 
jealous  clergy,  in  this  religion  which  must  have  seemed  to  him 
like  a  barbarous  mixture  of  Syrian  and  Chaldean  oracles.  The 
only  faith  remaining  to  him,  or  which  he  needed  to  pretend  to 
hold  because  of  his  office,  was  the  new  Roman  religion,  civic 
and  political,  concentrated  on  the  cult  of  the  Emperor.  The 
first  conflict  with  the  Jews  arose  in  fact  from  this  religion. 
When  he  had  changed  the  guard  of  Jerusalem,  he  ordered  the 
soldiers  to  enter  the  city  by  night,  without  taking  off  from 
their  ensigns  the  silver  images  of  Caesar.  In  the  morning,  as 
soon  as  the  Jews  were  aware  of  this,  great  was  the  horror  and 
the  uproar.  It  was  the  first  time  that  the  Romans  had  lacked  in 
external  respect  for  the  religion  of  their  subjects  in  Palestine. 
These  figures  of  the  deified  Caesar  planted  near  the  Temple 
were  for  them  an  idolatrous  provocation,  the  beginning  of  the 
abomination  of  desolation.  All  the  country  was  in  an  uproar; 
a  deputation  was  sent  to  Caesarea  to  have  Pilate  take  them 
away.  Pilate  refused;  for  five  days  and  nights  they  stormed 
about  him  day  and  night.  Finally  the  Procurator,  to  get  him¬ 
self  out  of  the  trouble,  convoked  them  in  the  amphitheater  and 
treacherously  had  them  surrounded  with  soldiers  with  naked 
swords,  assuring  them  that  no  one  would  escape  if  they  did  not 
make  an  end  of  their  clamor.  But  the  Jews,  instead  of  asking 
for  mercy,  offered  their  throats  to  the  swords,  and  Pilate,  con¬ 
quered  by  this  heroic  stubbornness,  ordered  that  the  insignia 
be  carried  back  to  Caesarea. 

But  if  this  clemency  did  not  diminish  the  hatred  of  the  Jews 
for  the  new  Procurator,  neither  did  it  lessen  Pilate’s  distaste 
nor  his  desire  to  do  them  an  ill  turn.  A  little  while  after  this, 
he  introduced  into  Herod’s  palace,  where  he  lived  when  he 
stayed  at  Jerusalem,  votive  tablets  dedicated  to  the  Emperor. 
But  the  priests  heard  of  it  and  once  more  the  people  were 
aroused  to  outraged  and  furious  anger.  He  was  asked  to  take 
away  the  idolatrous  objects  at  once.  An  appeal  to  Caesar  was 
threatened,  an  appeal  supported  by  evidence  of  the  imposi¬ 
tions  and  cruelties  committed  by  Pilate.  Pilate  this  time  also 
did  not  yield.  The  Jews  then  made  the  appeal  to  Tiberius, 


328  LIFE  OF  CHRIST 

who  decreed  that  the  tablets  should  be  sent  back  to  Cae¬ 
sarea. 

Twice  Pilate  had  had  the  worst  of  a  dispute.  But  the  third 
time  he  was  triumphant.  Coming  from  the  city  of  public 
baths  and  aqueducts,  a  friend,  as  is  well  known,  of  ablutions, 
he  noticed  that  Jerusalem  lacked  water  and  he  planned  to  have 
a  fine  large  reservoir  constructed  and  an  aqueduct  several 
miles  long.  But  the  undertaking  was  expensive  and  to  pay 
for  it  he  used  a  goodly  sum  taken  from  the  treasury  of  the 
Temple.  The  treasury  was  rich,  for  all  the  Jews  scattered 
about  in  the  Empire  came  there  to  bring  offerings,  and  when 
they  could  not  come  in  person  sent  them  from  a  distance — but 
the  priests  cried  out  on  the  sacrilege,  and  the  people  incited  by 
them  made  such  a  commotion  that  when  Pilate  came  for  the 
Feast  of  the  Passover  to  Jerusalem,  thousands  of  men  gath¬ 
ered  in  a  tumultuous  crowd  in  front  of  his  Palace.  But  this 
time  he  sent  among  the  multitude  a  large  number  of  disguised 
soldiers  who  at  a  given  signal  began  to  lay  about  them  so 
vigorously,  among  the  most  furious  of  the  crowd,  that  in  a 
short  time  they  all  fled  away,  and  Pilate  could  enjoy  in  peace 
the  water  of  the  reservoir  paid  for  with  the  Jews^  money,  and 
make  use  of  it  for  his  various  ablutions. 

Only  a  short  time  had  passed  since  this  last  encounter  and 
now  these  very  priests  who  three  times  had  risen  against  his  au¬ 
thority,  the  very  ones  who  had  tried  to  obtain  his  deposition, 
the  very  ones  who  hated  him  heartily,  hated  him  as  a  Roman, 
as  a  symbol  of  the  foreign  dominion  and  of  their  slavery,  and 
hated  him  still  more  personally  as  Pontius  Pilate,  as  plotter 
against  their  religion  and  thief  of  their  money — these  very 
High  Priests  were  forced  to  have  recourse  to  him  in  order  to 
vent  another  hatred,  which  for  the  mioment  was  more  bitter 
in  their  wicked  hearts.  Only  hard  necessity  drove  them  to  it, 
because  death  sentences  could  not  be  carried  out  if  they  were 
not  confirmed  by  Caesar’s  representative. 

That  Friday,  at  dawn,  Pontius  Pilate,  wrapped  in  his  toga, 
still  sleepy  and  yawning,  was  waiting  for  them  in  Herod’s 
palace,  very  ill-disposed  towards  those  tiresome  trouble-makers, 
whose  contentions  had  forced  him  to  rise  earlier  than  usual. 


t: 

I 

li 

1 

I 

1 

1 

fj 

1 


- 

. 


’I 

I 

I 


1 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


329 


WHAT  IS  TRUTH? 

The  crowd  of  the  accusers  and  of  the  rough  populace  finally 
came  out  into  the  open  place  which  was  before  Herod’s  palace, 
but  they  stopped  outside,  because  if  they  went  into  a  house 
where  there  was  leaven  and  bread  baked  with  leaven,  they 
would  be  contaminated  all  day  long  and  could  not  eat  the 
Passover,  Innocent  blood  does  not  pollute,  but  leaven  does. 

Pilate,  warned  of  their  coming,  went  out  on  the  door-sill  and 
asked  abruptly:  ‘‘What  accusation  bring  ye  against  this  man?” 

Those  who  were  before  him  v/ere  his  enemies.  It  appeared 
that  this  man  was  their  enemy  and  Pilate  instinctively  took 
his  part.  Not  that  he  had  any  pity  for  him — was  he  not  a  Jew 
like  the  others,  and  poor  into  the  bargain?  But  if  he  were  by 
any  chance  innocent,  Pilate  had  no  mind  to  lend  himself  to  a 
whim  of  those  detestable  vermin. 

Caiaphas  answered  at  once  as  if  offended:  “If  he  were  not 
a  malefactor,  we  would  not  have  delivered  him  up  unto  you.” 

Then  Pilate  who  wished  to  lose  no  time  with  ecclesiastical 
squabbles,  and  did  not  think  that  there  was  any  question  of  a 
capital  crime,  answered  dryly:  “Take  ye  him,  and  judge  him 
according  to  your  law.” 

Already  in  these  words  appears  his  wish  to  save  the  man 
without  being  forced  to  take  sides  openly.  But  the  concession 
of  the  Procurator,  which  in  any  other  case  would  have  de¬ 
lighted  Caiaphas  and  his  party,  this  time  did  not  suit  them, 
because  the  Sanhedrin  could  inflict  only  light  sentences  and 
now  they  desired  the  most  extreme  sentence  of  all  and  could 
not  dispense  with  the  Roman  arm.  They  answered:  “It  is  not 
lawful  for  us  to  put  any  man  to  death.” 

Pilate  suddenly  understood  what  sentence  they  wished 
passed  on  the  wretched  man  who  stood  before  him,  and  he 
wished  to  find  out  what  crime  He  had  committed.  What 
might  seem  worthy  of  a  death  sentence  to  those  bigoted  rabbis 
might  seem  a  venial  fault  in  the  eyes  of  a  Roman. 

The  foxes  of  the  Temple  had  thought  of  this  difficulty  be¬ 
fore  taking  action.  They  knew  very  well  that  Pilate  would 
not  be  satisfied  if  they  told  him  that  this  man  attacked  the 


330 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


religion  of  their  fathers  and  announced  the  Kingdom  of  God. 
They  were  prepared  therefore  to  lie.  For  a  man  about  to  com¬ 
mit  a  base  action,  one  more  accessory  and  subordinate  infamy 
seems  of  little  consequence.  Pilate  could  be  conquered  only 
with  his  own  weapons,  by  appealing  to  his  loyalty  to  Rome 
and  to  the  Emperor  and  to  the  basis  of  his  office-holding.  It 
was  already  agreed  that  they  would  give  a  political  color  to 
the  accusation.  If  they  told  him  that  Jesus  was  a  false  Mes¬ 
siah,  Pilate  would  smile.  But  if  they  said  that  He  was  a 
seditious  inciter  of  revolt,  that  He  was  trying  to  rouse  the 
common  people  against  Rome,  Pilate  could  not  do  less  than 
put  Him  to  death. 

“We  found  this  fellow  perverting  the  nation,  and  forbidding 
to  give  tribute  to  Caesar,  saying  that  he  himself  is  Christ,  a 
King.  .  .  .  He  stirreth  up  all  the  people,  teaching  throughout 
all  Jewry,  beginning  from  Galilee  to  this  place.’’ 

Every  word  was  a  lie.  Jesus  had  commanded  men  to  render 
unto  Caesar  that  which  was  Caesar’s.  He  paid  no  attention 
whatever  to  the  Romans.  He  said  that  He  was  Christ  but 
not  in  the  coarse,  political  meaning  of  a  King  of  the  Jews: 
and  He  did  not  stir  up  the  people  but  wished  to  make  of  an 
unhappy  and  degraded  people  a  blessed  kingdom  of  saints. 
However  grave  these  accusations  might  have  seemed  to  Pilate 
if  they  had  been  true,  they  only  increased  his  suspicions  of  the 
priests.  Was  it  probable  that  those  treacherous  vipers  who  de¬ 
tested  him  and  Rome,  and  who  had  tried  to  overturn  him  so 
many  times  and  whose  one  dream  was  to  sweep  away  the 
governing  pagans  and  foreigners,  should  suddenly  be  kindled 
with  so  much  zeal  to  denounce  a  rebel  of  their  own  nation?* 

Pilate  was  not  convinced  and  he  wished  to  find  out  for  him¬ 
self,  by  questioning  the  accused  man  in  private.  He  went  back 
into  the  palace  and  commanded  that  Jesus  be  brought  to  him. 
Disregarding  the  less  important  accusations,  he  went  at  once 
to  the  essential:  “Art  thou  the  King  of  the  Jews?” 

But  Jesus  did  not  answer.  How  could  He  ever  make  this 
Roman  understand!  This  Roman  who  knew  nothing  of  God’s 
promises,  misinformed  by  His  assassins,  a  Pyrrhonic  atheist, 
whose  only  religion  was  the  artificial  and  diabolical  cult  of  a 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


331 


living  man — and  of  what  a  man — Tiberius! — how  could  He 
ever  explain  to  this  freedman,  a  pupil  of  the  lawyers  and  rhe¬ 
toricians  of  Rome  in  the  most  decadent  of  all  the  degenerate 
foulness  of  that  time;  how  could  He  explain  that  He  was  the 
King  of  a  Kingdom  not  yet  founded,  of  a  spiritual  Kingdom 
which  would  abolish  all  human  kingdoms? 

Jesus  read  the  depths  of  Pilate’s  soul  and  made  no  answer, 
as  He  had  kept  silent  at  first  before  Annas  and  before  Caia- 
phas.  The  Procurator  could  not  understand  this  silence  on 
the  part  of  a  man  over  whom  hung  the  threat  of  death.  ‘‘Hear- 
est  thou  not  how  many  things  they  witness  against  thee?” 

But  Jesus  answered  him  never  a  word.  Pilate,  who  at  all 
costs  wished  to  triumph  over  those  who  hated  him  as  much 
as  they  hated  this  man,  insisted,  hoping  to  extract  a  denial 
which  would  permit  him  to  set  Him  at  liberty:  “Art  thou  the 
King  of  the  Jews?” 

If  Jesus  denied  this  He  would  betray  Himself.  He  had  said 
to  His  disciples  and  to  the  Jews  that  He  was  Christ.  He  had 
no  wish  to  lie  and  save  Himself.  The  better  to  sound  the 
Roman’s  mind  He  answered  Him,  as  was  his  wont,  with  an¬ 
other  question:  “Sayest  thou  this  thing  of  thyself,  or  did 
others  tell  it  thee  of  me?” 

Pilate  answered,  as  if  offended,  “Am  I  a  Jew?  Thine  own 
nation  and  the  chief  priests  have  delivered  thee  unto  me.  Art 
thou  the  King  of  the  Jews?” 

With  the  exception  of  this  contemptuous  beginning,  this  an¬ 
swer  of  Pilate  was  conciliatory.  “For  whom  do  you  take  me? 
Do  you  not  know  that  I  am  a  Roman,  that  I  do  not  believe 
what  your  enemies  believe?  Your  accusers  are  priests,  not  I; 
but  they  are  obliged  to  give  you  into  my  hands:  your  safety 
rests  with  me:  tell  me  that  what  they  say  is  not  true  and  you 
shall  be  free.” 

Jesus  had  no  wish  to  escape  death,  but  still  He  determined 
to  try  to  shed  more  light  on  this  pagan.  Everything  is  possible 
to  the  Father:  was  it  not  possible  that  Pilate  might  be  the  last 
convert  of  the  dying  man? 

“My  kingdom  is  not  of  this  world:  if  my  kingdom  were  of 
this  world,  then  would  my  servants  fight,  that  I  should  not  be 


332  LIFE  OF  CHRIST 

delivered  to  the  Jews:  but  now  is  my  kingdom  not  from 
hence.’’ 

The  servant  of  Tiberius  did  not  understand.  The  difference 
between  ‘^of  this  world”  and  “my  kingdom  is  not  from  hence” 
was  obscure  to  him.  Pilate  thought  that  what  is  the  phrase 
“not  of  this  world”  meant  the  gods  above  if  there  were  really 
any,  gods  favorable  or  malignant  to  men,  and  below  in  Hades 
the  shadows  of  the  dead  if  really  there  was  anything  remaining 
of  us  when  the  body  had  been  consumed  by  fire  or  worms  :  the 
only  reality  for  such  a  man  as  Pilate  was  “this  world,”  the 
great  world  with  all  its  kingdoms.  And  once  more  he  asked: 
“Art  thou  a  king  then?” 

There  was  no  longer  any  reason  to  deny.  He  would  say  to 
this  blinded  man  what  He  had  proclaimed  to  the  others: 
“Thou  say  est  that  I  am  a  king.  To  this  end  was  I  born,  and 
for  this  cause  came  I  into  the  world,  that  I  should  bear  wit¬ 
ness  unto  the  truth.  Every  one  that  is  of  the  truth  heareth  my 
voice.” 

Then  Pilate,  annoyed  by  what  seemed  to  him  truculent  mys¬ 
tification,  answered  with  the  celebrated  question:  “What  is 
truth?” 

And  without  waiting  for  an  answer,  he  rose  to  go  out.  The 
skeptical  Roman  had  many  times  been  present  at  the  endless 
disputes  of  philosophers,  and  because  he  had  heard  so  many 
contradictory  metaphysical  contentions  and  so  many  sophisti¬ 
cal  quibblings,  had  become  convinced  that  truth  did  not  exist, 
or  if  it  did  exist,  could  never  be  known  by  men.  He  did  not 
dream  for  a  moment  that  this  obscure  Jew  who  stood  before 
him  as  a  malefactor  could  tell  him  the  truth.  It  was  Pilate’s 
destiny  on  that  one  day  of  his  life  to  contemplate  the  face  of 
truth,  supreme  truth  made  man,  and  he  could  not  see  it.  Liv¬ 
ing  truth,  the  truth  which  could  have  made  him  a  new  man, 
was  before  him  clothed  with  human  flesh  and  rough  garments, 
with  buffeted  face,  and  hands  tied.  But  in  his  arrogance  he 
did  not  guess  what  prodigious  good  fortune  was  his,  a  good 
fortune  which  millions  of  men  have  envied  him  after  his  death. 
If  any  one  had  told  him  that  because  of  this  one  encounter, 
because  to  him  was  vouchsafed  the  overwhelming  honor  of 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


333 


having  spoken  to  Jesus  and  having  sent  Him  to  the  cross,  his 
name  would  be  known,  although  in  infamy  and  malediction, 
through  all  the  centuries  and  by  all  the  human  race,  such  a 
prophecy  would  have  seemed  to  him  like  the  frenzied  ravings 
of  a  madman.  Pilate  was  blind  with  an  appalling  and  incura¬ 
ble  blindness,  but  Christ  on  that  very  day  was  to  pardon  even 
him  because  the  blind,  even  less  than  others,  know  what  they 
do. 


CLAUDIA  PROCULA 

Just  as  Pilate  was  preparing  to  go  out  and  give  his  answer 
to  the  Jews,  who  were  muttering  restlessly  and  impatiently  be¬ 
fore  the  door,  a  servant  sent  by  his  wife  came  up  to  him,  giving 
him  this  message:  “Have  thou  nothing  to  do  with  that  just 
man:  for  I  have  suffered  many  things  this  day  in  a  dream  be¬ 
cause  of  him.” 

No  one  in  the  four  Gospels  tells  us  what  impression  was 
made  on  the  Procurator  by  this  unexpected  intercession  from 
his  wife.  We  know  nothing  of  her  except  her  name.  Accord¬ 
ing  to  the  Gospel  of  Nicodemus  her  name  was  Claudia  Procula, 
and  if  this  name  was  really  hers  she  may  have  belonged  to  the 
Gente  Claudia,  distinguished  and  powerful  at  Rome.  We  may 
thus  suppose  that  she  was  by  birth  and  connections  of  a  higher 
social  rank  than  her  husband,  and  that  Pilate,  a  mere  freed- 
man,  may  have  owed  to  her  and  her  influence  in  Rome  his  post 
in  Judea. 

If  all  this  was  true,  certainly  the  request  of  Claudia  Procula 
must  have  made  some  impression  on  Pilate,  especially  if  he 
loved  her;  and  that  he  loved  her,  at  least  as  a  man  of  his  nature 
could  love,  seems  proved  by  the  fact  that  he  had  asked  to  take 
her  with  him  into  Asia.  The  Lex  Oppia,  although  mitigated  by 
a  decree  of  the  Senate  in  the  consulship  of  Cethegus  and  Varrò, 
forbade  the  pro-consuls  to  take  their  wives  with  them,  and 
Pontius  Pilate  had  a  special  permit  from  Tiberius  allowing 
Claudia  Procula  to  accompany  him  to  Palestine. 

The  motives  for  this  intercession,  so  briefly  stated,  are  mys¬ 
terious.  The  words  of  Matthew  refer  to  a  dream  in  which  she 


334 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


had  suffered  because  of  Jesus  :  it  is  probable  that  she  had  heard 
people  talking  for  some  time  of  the  new  Prophet;  perhaps  she 
had  seen  Him,  and  found  Him  very  different  from  the  other 
Jews.  The  fact  that  He  was  neither  a  vulgar  demagogue  nor 
a  hypocritical  Pharisee  must  have  been  pleasing  to  the 
imagination  of  a  fanciful  Roman  woman.  She  did  not  under¬ 
stand  the  language  spoken  in  Jerusalem,  but  some  interpreter 
of  the  law  courts  might  have  repeated  to  her  some  of  Jesus’ 
words,  words  which  would  have  convinced  her  that  He  was 
not,  as  they  said,  a  dangerous  criminal. 

In  those  days  the  Romans,  especially  Roman  women,  were 
beginning  to  feel  the  attraction  of  Oriental  myths  and  cults, 
which  gave  more  satisfaction  to  the  longing  for  personal  im¬ 
mortality  than  the  old  Latin  religion,  a  cold,  legal,  business¬ 
like  exchange  of  sacrifices  to  obtain  utilitarian  and  political 
ends.  Many  patrician  women,  even  in  Rome,  had  been  ini¬ 
tiated  into  the  mysteries  of  Mithra,  Osiris  and  of  Isis,  the 
Great  Mother,  and  some  showed  a  certain  leaning  towards 
Judaism.  In  that  very  reign  of  Tiberius  many  Jews  living  in 
Rome  were  exiled  from  the  Capital  because,  according  to 
Josephus,  some  of  them  had  deceived  a  matron  Fulvia — con¬ 
verted  to  Judaism — and  Fulvia,  as  we  see  from  a  reference  of 
Suetonius,  was  not  the  only  one. 

It  is  not  impossible  that  Claudia  Procula,  living  in  Judea, 
had  been  curious  to  know  more  in  detail  about  the  religion  of 
the  people  governed  by  her  husband,  and  that,  curious  like  all 
women  about  new  things,  she  had  tried  to  find  out  what  new 
doctrines  were  being  preached  by  the  Galilean  prophet  of  whom 
every  one  in  Jerusalem  was  talking.  It  is  certain  that  she  had 
become  convinced  that  Jesus  was  a  ‘‘just  man”  and  hence  in¬ 
nocent.  The  dream  of  that  night,  the  terrible  dream — for  she 
had  “suffered  many  things”  in  it — had  confirmed  her  in  this 
conviction,  and  it  is  not  surprising  that  relying  on  the  influence 
which  women  have  with  their  husbands,  even  if  their  husbands 
love  them  no  longer,  she  sent  this  imploring  message  to  Pilate. 

It  is  enough  for  us  that  she  called  Him  “That  just  man” — 
the  man  whom  the  Jews  wished  to  assassinate.  Together  with 
the  Centurion  of  Capernaum  and  with  the  Canaanite  woman. 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


335 


^  Claudia  Procula  is  the  first  pagan  who  believed  in  Christ,  and 

1  the  Greek  Church  has  good  reason  to  revere  her  as  a  Saint. 

I  This  message  from  his  wife  strengthened  Pilate’s  reluctance, 

rinclined  as  he  already  was  to  neutrality,  if  not  to  clemency, 

^  _ 

I  through  his  animosity  to  Caiaphas,  and  perhaps  through  the 
words  of  the  Accused.  Claudia  Procula  had  not  said,  “Save 

'>v  ' 

f  Him” — but:  “Have  thou  nothing  to  do  with  that  just  man.” 

V  This  was  Pilate’s  idea,  also  ;  as  if  he  had  a  confused  divination 
of  the  importance  of  this  mysterious  beggar  who  called  Him¬ 
self  King.  At  the  very  first  he  had  ordered  the  Jews  to  judge 
Him,  themselves,  but  they  had  not  been  willing  to  do  this. 
Then  another  way  to  evade  the  responsibility  occurred  to  him. 
He  went  back  to  Jesus  and  asked  whether  He  were  a  Galilean. 

This  evasion  seemed  to  promise  success.  Jesus  did  not  be- 

■  long  to  his  jurisdiction,  but  to  that  of  Herod  Antipas.  By  good 
luck  Herod  was  there  at  Jerusalem  at  that  very  time,  come 
as  was  his  wont  for  the  Passover.  The  Procurator  had  found 
a  legitimate  subterfuge  to  satisfy  his  wife — and  to  free  him¬ 
self  from  this  troublesome  perplexity.  With  one  stroke  he 
would  ingratiate  himself  with  the  Jews,  leaving  to  one  of  their 
own  race  the  decisive  judgment,  and  at  the  same  time  he  would 
do  a  bad  turn  to  the  patriarch  whom  he  hated  with  all  his 
heart  because  he  suspected  him  with  good  reason  of  spying  on 
him  and  tale-bearing  to  Tiberius.  So,  losing  no  time,  he  or¬ 
dered  the  soldiers  to  take  Jesus  before  Herod. 

THE  WHITE  CLOAK 

The  third  judge  before  whom  Jesus  was  led  was  a  son  of 
that  bloody-minded  hog,  Herod  the  Great,  by  one  of  his  five 
wives.  He  was  the  true  son  of  his  father  because  he  wronged 
his  brothers  as  his  father  had  wronged  his  sons.  When  his 
brother  Archelaus,  his  own  half-brother,  was  accused  by  his 
subjects,  he  managed  to  have  him  exiled.  He  robbed  his  other 
brother  Herod  of  his  wife.  When  he  was  seventeen  years  old 
he  began  to  reign  as  Tetrarch  over  Galilee  and  over  Berea, 
and  to  ingratiate  himself  with  Tiberius,  offered  himself  as 
a  secret  tale-bearer  of  the  sayings  and  doings  of  his  brothers 


336 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


and  of  the  Roman  officials  in  Judea.  On  a  voyage  to  Rome  he 
fell  in  love  with  Herodias,  who  was  both  his  niece  and  his  sister- 
in-law,  since  she  was  the  daughter  of  his  brother  Aristobulus, 
and  wife  of  his  brother  Herod,  and  not  shrinking  from  the 
double  incest,  he  persuaded  her  to  follow  him,  together  with 
Salome,  the  daughter  of  the  adulteress.  His  first  wife,  daugh¬ 
ter  of  Aretas,  king  of  the  Nabatei,  went  back  to  her  father, 
who  declared  war  on  Antipas  and  defeated  him. 

This  happened  while  John  the  Baptist  was  beginning  to  be 
talked  about  among  the  people.  The  prophet  let  slip  some 
words  of  condemnation  against  these  two  incestuous  adulterers, 
and  this  was  enough  for  Herodias  to  persuade  her  new  husband 
to  have  him  taken  and  shut  up  in  the  fortress  of  Machserus. 
Every  one  knows  how  the  foul  Tetrarch,  inflamed  by  cruel 
Salome’s  lascivious  arts,  and  perhaps  meditating  a  new  incest, 
was  forced  to  offer  her  the  bearded  head  of  the  Prophet  of  Fire 
on  a  golden  platter. 

But  even  after  his  decapitation  John’s  shade  disturbed 
Herod,  and  when  he  began  to  hear  talk  of  Jesus  and  of  His 
miracles  he  said  to  his  courtiers,  “This  is  John  the  Baptist; 
he  is  risen  from  the  dead.” 

It  seems  that  he  kept  his  eye  on  the  new  prophet,  and  that 
at  one  time  he  thought  of  serving  Him  as  he  had  his  precursor  ; 
but  either  for  political  or  superstitious  reasons,  deciding  that 
he  would  have  no  more  to  do  with  prophets,  he  saw  that  the 
best  way  was  to  force  Jesus  to  leave  his  Tetrarchy.  One  day 
some  Pharisees,  very  probably  acting  on  Herod’s  instructions, 
went  to  say  to  Jesus:  “Get  thee  out,  and  depart  hence:  for 
Herod  will  kill  thee.” 

“And  he  said  unto  them.  Go  ye  and  tell  that  fox  .  .  . 
nevertheless  I  must  walk  to-day,  and  to-morrow,  and  the  day 
following;  for  it  cannot  be  that  a  prophet  perish  out  of 
Jerusalem.” 

And  now  at  Jerusalem  near  His  death,  He  appeared  before 
that  fox.  That  traitor  and  spy,  incestuous  adulterer,  assassin 
of  John  and  enemy  of  the  prophets  was  the  most  fitting  person 
to  condemn  innocence.  But  Jesus  had  named  him  well:  he 
was  more  fox  than  tiger,  and  he  shrank  from  being  a  substi- 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


337 


tute  for  Pilate.  Luke  tells  us,  ^When  Herod  saw  Jesus  he  was 
exceeding  glad:  for  he  was  desirous  to  see  him  of  a  long  sea¬ 
son,  because  he  had  heard  many  things  of  him;  and  he  hoped 
to  have  seen  some  miracle  done  by  him.” 

The  son  of  the  Idumean  and  the  Samaritan  woman  had 
scorched  himself  in  John’s  fire,  and  he  received  Jesus  as  an 
old  tamer  of  animals,  with  the  marks  of  the  lion’s  teeth  still  on 
his  arm,  looks  at  a  new  wild  animal  brought  for  him  to  see. 
But,  like  all  Oriental  barbarians,  his  mind  was  obsessed  by 
prodigies,  and  he  imagined  Jesus  to  be  a  wandering  wizard  who 
could,  whenever  He  wished,  repeat  some  of  His  sorcery.  Herod 
hated  Him  as  he  had  hated  John,  but  he  hated  Him  partly  be¬ 
cause  he  feared  Him;  the  prophets  had  a  power  which  Herod 
did  not  understand  and  which  intimidated  him:  perhaps  the 
beheading  of  John  had  brought  him  bad  luck.  He  too  wished 
Jesus  to  be  killed,  but  he  had  no  mind  to  be  in  any  way  re¬ 
sponsible  for  His  death. 

Seeing  that  there  were  no  miracles  to  be  expected,  he  began 
to  put  many  questions,  to  which  Jesus  made  no  answer.  He 
had  broken  His  silence  for  Annas,  for  Caiaphas,  for  Pilate, 
but  He  would  not  for  this  crowned  rascal!  Annas  and  Caia¬ 
phas  were  His  declared  enemies,  Pilate  was  a  blind  man  grop¬ 
ing  along,  thinking  that  he  was  saving  Him,  but  this  Herod  was 
a  cowardly  fox  and  did  not  deserve  even  an  insult.  The  High 
Priests  and  the  Scribes,  fearing  that  John’s  assassin  would  be 
too  cowardly  to  kill  Jesus,  as  in  fact  he  was,  had  followed  their 
victim  there  and  vehemently  accused  him.  These  furious  ac¬ 
cusations  and  the  silence  of  the  accused  man  deepened  the  hid¬ 
den  rancor  of  Antipas,  who,  together  with  his  soldiers,  abused 
the  Man  of  divine  silences,  threw  over  his  shoulders  a  gorgeous 
robe,  and  sent  Him  again  to  Pilate. 

Like  Pilate,  but  for  other  reasons,  he  was  not  willing  to  con¬ 
demn  the  man  baptized  by  John,  and  who  perhaps  was  John 
himself  returned  from  the  dead  to  avenge  himself.  But  when 
he  sent  Him  away  he  made  Him  a  gift  which  bears  unconscious 
witness  to  the  rank  of  the  man  about  to  die.  The  mantle, 
shining  with  whiteness,  was,  so  Josephus  says,  the  garment  of 
the  Jewish  Kings,  and  Jesus  was  accused  of  wishing  to  make 


338 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


Himself  King  of  the  Jews.  Antipas,  the  astute,  wished  to  1 
ridicule  the  pretensions  of  Jesus  by  ironically  making  him  a  J 
present  of  the  regal  robe;  but  when  he  covered  Him  with*  that  I 
whiteness,  which  is  the  symbol  of  innocence  and  of  sovereignty,  j 
the  ignoble  fox  sent  to  Pilate  a  symbolical  message  which  in-  d 
voluntarily  confirmed  the  message  of  Claudia  Procula,  the  ac-  i 
cusation  of  Caiaphas,  and  what  Christ  Himself  had  said.  | 

CRUCIFY  HIM  ! 

II 

Pilate  had  thought  that  he  had  succeeded  in  extracting  him¬ 
self  from  the  troublesome  position  in  which  his  adversaries  had 
tried  to  place  him.  But  when  he  saw  Jesus  return  wrapped  i 
in  that  regal  white  garment  he  understood  that  he  must  at  any  ; 
cost  get  the  matter  settled. 

The  bitter  fury  of  those  who  for  so  many  reasons  were  ob-  i 
jects  of  suspicion  to  him,  his  wife^s  compassion,  the  answers 
of  Christ,  the  fact  that  Antipas  had  refrained  from  action,  all 
inclined  him  to  refuse  to  give  the  Jews  the  life  for  which  they  ; 
were  asking.  Perhaps  while  Jesus  was  with  the  Tetrarch,  Pilate 
had  asked  some  one  of  his  followers  about  the  pretended  King,  ^ 
and  the  information  confirmed  him  in  his  decision.  Jesus  had 
never  said  anything  that  would  be  offensive  to  Pilate:  rather  3 
there  was  much  in  what  He  said  calculated  to  please  the  Ro-  3 
man,  or  at  least  that  would  seem  advantageous  to  the  authority  1 
of  Rome. 

Jesus  taught  love  for  enemies,  and  in  Judea  the  Romans  ^ 
were  considered  enemies  ;  He  called  the  poor  blessed,  hence  He 
exhorted  them  to  resignation  and  not  to  revolt;  He  advised 
men  to  render  unto  Caesar  that  which  was  Caesar^s,  that  is,  to 
pay  tribute  to  the  Emperor;  He  was  opposed  to  the  Pharisai¬ 
cal  formalism  which  made  the  relations  of  the  Romans  with 
their  subjects  so  difficult;  He  did  not  respect  the  Sabbath;  He 
ate  with  publicans  and  with  Gentiles  ;  and  finally  He  announced 
that  His  Kingdom  was  not  of  this  world,  but  of  a  world  so 
metaphysical  and  remote  that  it  could  never  endanger  Tiberius 
or  his  succcessors.  If  Pilate  knew  these  things,  he  must  have 
said  to  himself  with  the  superficiality  of  all  skeptics,  especially 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


339 


when  they  think  themselves  expert  politicians,  that  it  would 
be  a  good  thing  for  him  and  for  Rome  if  many  Jews  followed 
Jesus,  rather  than  fomented  rebellion  in  the  councils  of  the 
Zealots. 

He  had  therefore  decided  to  save  Jesus,  but  in  this  indul¬ 
gence  he  wanted  to  put  a  sarcastic  note,  something  that  would 
be  offensive  to  the  High  Priests,  who  three  times  had  set  them¬ 
selves  against  him  and  now  were  importuning  him  to  be  their 
hangman.  Up  to  the  last  he  would  pretend  to  treat  Jesus  like 
the  King  of  the  Jews.  Here  is  your  King,  the  King  that  you 
deserve,  wretched  and  perfidious  people!  A  village  carpenter, 
a  vagabond,  a  beggar,  who  vapored  of  reigning  beyond  earthly 
life,  and  who  as  a  matter  of  fact  had  as  followers  only  a  few 
fishermen  and  peasants  and  a  few  silly  women.  See  how 
wretched  He  is,  how  miserable!  Why  do  you  want  to  kill 
Him?  Keep  Him;  you  deserve  no  better  King  than  He.  I 
will  follow  your  example,  will  amuse  myself  a  little  by  tor¬ 
menting  Him,  and  then  I  will  let  Him  go. 

And  causing  Jesus  to  be  led  out,  Pilate  went  to  the  door  and 
said  to  the  High  Priests  and  the  others  who  crowded  about, 
their  faces  thrust  forward  to  hear  the  sentence  given  at  last, 
“Ye  have  brought  this  man  unto  me,  as  one  that  perverteth 
the  people:  and,  behold,  I,  having  examined  him  before  you, 
have  found  no  fault  in  this  man  touching  those  things  whereof 
ye  accuse  him:  No,  nor  yet  Herod:  for  I  sent  you  to  him;  and 
lo,  nothing  worthy  of  death  is  done  unto  him.  I  will  therefore 
chastise  him  and  release  him.” 

This  was  not  the  answer  awaited  by  the  ravening  hounds, 
yelling  in  the  square  before  the  Procurator’s  house.  A  bestial 
cry  burst  out  from  those  gaping  mouths,  “Kill  Him!” 

A  flogging  would  be  too  light  a  punishment  for  this  dan¬ 
gerous  enemy  of  the  God  of  Armies  and  the  God  of  Business. 
Something  quite  different  from  that  was  necessary  to  satisfy 
these  butchers  of  the  Temple.  They  had  come  to  ask  for 
blood  and  not  for  pardon. 

“Kill  Him!”  yelled  Annas  and  Caiaphas,  and  with  them  the 
Pharisaical  vipers  hissed,  the  sellers  of  the  holy  animals 
shrieked,  the  money-changers,  the  men  who  rented  beasts  of 


340 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


i 


burden,  the  porters  of  the  caravans.  Him!”  howled  tl  j 

Scribes,  wrapped  in  their  theological  cloaks,  the  vendors  of  tlj; 
Passover  fair,  the  tavern-keepers  of  the  upper  city,  the  Levite 
the  servants  of  the  Temple,  the  hired  helpers  of  the  usurer 
the  errand  boys  of  the  priests,  all  the  servile  horde  assembh  | 
before  the  Procurator’s  house. 

As  soon  as  this  uproar  was  a  little  quieted,  Pilate  aske 
“What  will  ye  then  that  I  shall  do  unto  him  whom  ye  cr| 
King  of  the  Jews?” 

And  they  all  answered,  “Crucify  him!” 

But  the  Procurator  resisted,  “Why,  what  evil  hath  ] 
done?” 

And  they  cried  out  the  more  exceedingly,  “Crucify  him 

Jesus,  pale  and  calm  in  the  whiteness  of  the  mocking  cloa 
looked  quietly  at  the  crowd,  which  desired  to  give  Him  wh 
in  His  heart  He  had  been  seeking.  He  was  dying  for  thei 
with  the  divine  hope  of  saving  even  them  by  His  death,  ai 
they  were  assailing  Him,  howling  as  if  He  had  wished 
escape  His  accepted  fate.  His  friends  were  not  there,  we 
hidden;  all  His  people  wished  to  pierce  His  flesh  with  nai 
and  only  a  foreigner,  an  idolater,  defended  His  life.  Why  w 
Pilate  not  moved  to  compassion?  Why  did  He  not  give  Hi 
at  once  to  the  crucifiers?  Did  he  not  realize  that  his  false  pi 
only  lengthened  and  embittered  the  anguish?  He  loved  a] 
it  was  fitting  that  He  should  be  hated;  He  brought  men  ba 
from  death  and  it  v/as  fitting  that  He  should  be  killed;  IS^i 
wished  to  save  others  and  it  was  fitting  that  all  men  shorn 
wish  to  destroy  Him;  He  was  innocent  and  it  was  fitting  thpi 
He  should  be  sacrificed.  j  [ 

But  obstinate  Pilate  did  not  surrender  to  the  howls  of  ti||{ 
Jews  nor  to  Jesus’  silent  prayer.  At  any  cost  he  wanted  k 
win  his  point.  He  would  not  give  in  once  more  to  that  fierfji,|i 
filthy  mob.  He  had  not  succeeded  in  transferring  to  Antip^i 
the  disagreeable  responsibility  of  a  death-sentence;  he  had  rii| 
succeeded  in  persuading  this  tigerish  and  mulish  people  of  t 
innocence  of  their  wretched  king.  What  they  wanted  was  ^*5 
see  a  little  blood;  on  these  festival  days  they  wanted  to  enj 
the  spectacle  of  a  crucifixion.  He  would  satisfy  them  with ,  \ 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


341 


bargain,  giving  them  the  carcass  of  a  murderer  in  exchange 
for  the  body  of  an  innocent  man. 

BARABBAS 

find  in  him  no  fault  at  all.  But  ye  have  a  custom,  that  I 
should  release  unto  you  one  at  the  passover.  Whom  will  ye 
that  I  release  unto  you?  Barabbas,  or  Jesus  which  is  called 
Christ?’^ 

Taken  by  surprise,  the  people  did  not  know  what  to  answer. 
Until  then  there  had  been  but  one  name,  one  victim,  one  pun¬ 
ishment  asked  for;  everything  was  as  clear  as  the  sky  on  that 
mid-April  morning.  But  now,  in  order  to  save  that  scandal- 
maker,  this  impertinent  pagan  brought  into  question  another 
name  which  confused  the  whole  matter.  Pilate  wanted  to  flog 
Him  only,  instead  of  crucifying  Him:  and  now  he  wanted  to 
fcrucify  another  delinquent  in  His  place.  By  good  fortune  the 
'Elders,  Scribes  and  Priests  were  still  there  and  they  had  no 
intention  of  letting  Jesus  escape.  In  a  flash  they  suggested 
I  the  right  reply.  So  that  when  Pilate  asked  them  a  second  time 
fwhich  of  the  two  they  wished  him  to  free,  they  answered  with 
one  voice,  “Away  with  this  man,  and  release  unto  us  Bar- 
abbas!” 

He  was  not  an  ordinary  delinquent,  the  man  whom  the  Pro¬ 
curator  offered  as  blood-ransom  to  those  men  with  such  a  mor¬ 
bid  relish  for  crucifixions.  The  common  tradition  has  pre¬ 
served  his  memory  as  a  street  ruffian,  a  criminal  by  profession. 
[But  his  surname — Bar  Rabban,  which  means  Son  of  Rab,  or 
Irather  disciple  of  the  Master,  since  the  scholars  of  the  Rabbis 
were  called  their  sons — shows  us  that  through  birth  or  through 
study  he  belonged  to  the  caste  of  Doctors  of  Law.  Mark  and 
Luke  say  expressly  that  he  was  accused  of  having  committed 
taiurder  during  a  sedition,  hence  a  political  assassin.  Jesus 
IBarabbas,  a  student  in  the  school  of  the  Scribes,  lamenting 
pver  the  loss  of  the  Jewish  Kingdom,  and  hating  Judea’s  pagan 
masters,  was  probably  a  Zealot  and  had  been  captured  in  one 
(lof  the  unsuccessful  revolts,  so  common  at  that  time.  Was  it 
1  likely  that  such  an  absurd  bargain  would  satisfy  the  Sadducee 


342 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


and  Pharisee  assembly  which  shared  the  sentiments  of  the  I 
Zealots,  even  if  for  reasons  of  state  they  hid  them,  or  out  of  I 
weakness  of  soul  forgot  them?  I 

Barabbas,  although  an  assassin,  and  indeed  precisely  be-  I 
cause  he  was  an  assassin — was  a  patriot,  a  martyr,  persecuted  | 
by  the  foreigners.  Jesus,  on  the  other  hand,  although  Fie  had  1 
never  killed  any  one,  had  wished  to  overturn  the  law  of  Moses,  | 
and  to  ruin  the  Temple.  The  first,  in  short,  was  a  sort  of  na-  I 
donai  hero,  the  other  an  enemy  of  the  nation:  there  could  be  I 
no  doubt  about  their  choice.  ‘Tree  Barabbas!  Let  this  man  | 
die  !  ”  Once  more  Pontius  Pilate  had  failed  to  save  Christ  or  I 
himself.  He  ought  to  have  realized  before  this,  that  the  lead-  Jj 
ers  of  the  Jews  would  not  loose  their  hold  on  the  flesh  into  | 
which  they  had  already  set  their  teeth,  the  only  flesh  which  1 
could  stay  their  hunger.  Their  need  for  it  that  day  was  like  I 
their  need  for  bread  and  air.  They  would  not  have  left  that  1 
spot,  not  even  to  eat,  until  they  had  seen  that  Bastard  Mes-  I 
siah  fastened  with  four  nails  upon  two  beams.  | 

Pontius  Pilate  was  cowardly.  He  was  afraid  that  he  was  I 
committing  an  injustice;  he  was  afraid  of  displeasing  his  wife;  ^ 
he  was  afraid  of  giving  satisfaction  to  his  enemies;  but  at  the  à 
same  time  he  was  afraid  to  put  Jesus  in  a  place  of  safety;  he  y 
was  afraid  to  have  his  soldiers  disperse  that  sullen,  arrogant  t 
crowd;  he  was  afraid  to  decide  with  a  clear-cut  act  of  authority  J 
that  Jesus,  the  innocent  man,  should  be  released,  and  not 
Barabbas,  the  assassin.  A  real  Roman,  a  Roman  of  antiquity, 
of  the  true  Roman  stock,  would  either  at  once  have  satisfied 
the  demands  of  that  turbulent  crowd  and  would  not  have  ; 
wasted  a  moment  in  defending  an  obscure  visionary;  or  would  » 
at  once  have  decreed,  from  the  beginning,  that  this  man  was  " 
innocent  and  was  under  the  august  protection  of  the  Empire.  ‘  I 
By  his  stratagems,  half-measures,  indolent  questionings, 
hesitations  and  partially  executed  maneuvers  Pilate  found 
himself  slowly  pushed  towards  a  decision  he  did  not  wish  to  t 
make.  The  fact  that  he  had  not  at  once  decided  the  question 
with  a  yes  or  no  had  increased  the  insolence  of  the  High 
Priests  and  the  excitement  of  the  people.  Now  there  were  only  ^ 
two  alternatives:  either  to  give  in  shamefully  after  resisting 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


343 


so  long,  or  to  risk  starting  a  tumult  which  on  those  days,  when 
Jerusalem  included  almost  a  third  of  the  population  of  Judea, 
might  become  a  perilous  uprising. 

Undone  by  his  cowardly  wavering,  deafened  by  the  yells, 
the  only  thing  that  came  into  his  mind  was  to  ask  once  more 
the  advice  of  men  to  whom  he  should  have  issued  orders. 

^What  shall  I  do  then  with  Jesus  which  is  called  Christ?” 

‘^Crucify  him,  let  him  be  crucified!” 

^Why,  what  evil  hath  he  done?” 

‘^Crucify  him!  Crucify  him!” 

What  affair  is  it  of  this  odious  foreigner  if  Jesus  had  done 
evil  or  not?  According  to  our  faith  He  is  an  impostor,  a 
blasphemer,  an  enemy  of  the  people  and  deserves  death.  Even 
if  He  has  done  no  evil  He  deserves  death  because  His  words 
are  more  dangerous  than  any  wicked  actions. 

^‘Crucify  him!  Crucify  him!” 

“Take  ye  him  and  crucify  him,”  cried  Pilate,  “for  I  find  no 
^  fault  in  him.” 

“We  have  a  law,  and  by  our  law  he  ought  to  die,  because  he 
made  himself  the  Son  of  God.” 

The  silence  of  Jesus  was  more  potent  than  this  bestial  out¬ 
cry.  They  were  fighting  for  the  possession  of  His  body,  and 
He  seemed  scarcely  to  be  aware  of  it.  He  knew  that  from  the 
beginning  of  time  His  destiny  was  sealed  and  that  this  was 
His  day.  The  battle  was  so  uneven!  On  one  side  a  Gentile, 
who  knew  nothing  and  understood  nothing  of  Him,  who  did 
not  defend  Him  through  love  but  through  Hate,  who  did  not 
i  defend  Him  openly  but  with  tricks  and  quibbles,  who  was 
more  afraid  of  a  revolt  than  of  an  injustice,  who  was  stubborn 
through  punctilio  and  not  because  of  his  certainty  of  Christas 
innocence.  On  the  other  hand,  a  threatened  clergy,  a  vindic¬ 
tive  bourgeoisie,  a  crowd,  like  all  crowds,  easily  incited  to  evil 
deeds.  It  was  easy  enough  to  foresee  the  outcome. 

But  Pontius  Pilate  would  not  yield  the  point.  He  would  re¬ 
store  Barabbas  to  his  accomplices,  but  he  would  not  give  up 
Jesus.  His  first  idea  came  into  his  head  again:  to  have  Him 
scourged;  perhaps  when  they  saw  the  bruises  and  the  blood 
dripping  from  His  back  they  would  be  satisfied  with  that  pun- 


344 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


ishment  and  would  leave  in  peace  the  innocent  man  who  lookec  j 
with  equal  pity  on  the  cowardly  shepherd  and  the  unruh  | 
wolves.  I 

The  Procurator  had  said  that  he  found  no  fault  with  Him  j 
and  yet  he  was  to  have  Him  scourged  with  rods.  This  contra  j 
diction,  this  half-injustice,  this  compromise,  is  characteristii  | 
of  Pilate.  But  it  was  to  be  of  no  avail;  like  his  other  efforts  i 
it  was  merely  to  add  one  more  shame  to  his  final  defeat.  \ 
The  Jews  were  still  shrieking,  ‘Tet  him  be  crucified!’’  Bu  | 
Pilate  went  back  into  his  house  and  gave  Jesus  over  to  th(  i 
Roman  soldiers  to  be  flogged.  I 


A  CROWNED  KING 


The  mercenaries,  who  (in  the  provinces)  were  the  majorib  i 
in  the  legions,  had  been  waiting  for  this  decision.  Through  ^ 
out  the  long  dispute  the  soldiers  of  the  Procurator’s  guard  ha(| 
been  obliged  to  look  on,  silent  and  motionless,  at  this  mys 
terious  colonial  uproar,  of  which  only  one  thing  seemed  elea; 
to  them,  that  their  commanding  officer  was  not  cutting  the  bes 
figure.  For  a  while  they  had  been  amused  by  watching  thi 
sinister  faces,  the  excitability  and  the  gesticulation  of  tha 
Jewish  swarm;  and  they  had  become  aware  that  the  Procura 
tor,  somber  and  perplexed,  was  vainly  trying  to  unravel  th; 
tangled  threads  of  this  early-morning  quarrel.  They  kep 
their  eyes  on  him,  as  dogs  watch  an  unskillful  hunter,  circlinf 
about  without  making  up  his  mind  to  fire,  although  the  quarr 
is  close  at  hand. 

Now  at  last  something  to  their  taste  happened.  They  wen 
to  have  their  turn  at  amusing  themselves.  To  flog  a  Jewj 
hated  by  the  Jews  themselves,  was  an  amusement  neither  dan 
gerous  nor  very  tiring, — just  enough  to  exercise  their  arms,  t( 
stretch  the  muscles  contracted  by  the  morning  chill,  and  t( 
start  the  blood  circulating. 

All  the  company  v/as  ordered  into  the  court-yard  of  th^ 
palace,  and  the  white  cloak  given  by  Antipas  was  taken  fron 
Jesus’  back — the  first  spoils  of  the  enterprise — together  witl 
part  of  His  other  clothes.  The  lictors  chose  the  rods,  and  thij 


[■ 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


345 


strongest  among  the  soldiers  snatched  at  them.  They  were 
practical  people  who  knew  how  to  flog  energetically  and  ac¬ 
cording  to  the  rules. 

Jesus,  half  of  His  body  bared,  tied  to  a  pillar,  that  He  might 
not  lessen  the  force  of  the  blows  by  bending  forward,  silently 
prayed  to  the  Father  for  the  soldiers  about  to  scourge  Him. 
Had  He  not  said:  ^Tove  those  who  hate  you,  do  good  to  those 
who  persecute  you,  offer  the  left  cheek  to  him  who  has  struck 
the  right”?  At  that  moment  He  could  reward  his  scourgers 
only  by  interceding  with  God  for  their  forgiveness.  These 
soldiers  were  prisoners  as  much  as  He,  and  they  knew  not 
whom  they  were  flogging  with  such  innocent  heartiness.  They 
themselves  had  been  flogged  sometimes  for  small  breaches  of 
discipline,  and  they  saw  nothing  out  of  the  way  in  the  fact 
that  the  Procurator,  a  Roman  officer,  had  them  scourge  a  de¬ 
linquent  belonging  to  a  subject  and  inferior  race. 

Strike  hard,  O  legionaries,  for  of  this  blood  which  now  be¬ 
gins  to  flow,  some  drops  are  shed  for  you.  This  was  the  first 
blood  drawn  by  men  from  the  Son  of  Man.  At  the  Last  Sup¬ 
per  His  blood  had  been  symbolized  by  the  v/ine,  on  the  Mount 
of  Olives  the  blood  which  mixed  with  the  sweat,  stood  in  drops 
on  His  face,  came  from  a  suffering  altogether  spiritual  and 
inner.  But  now,  at  last,  men’s  hands  shed  blood  from  the 
veins  of  Christ;  knotty  hands  of  soldiers  in  the  service  of 
the  rich  and  the  powerful,  hands  which  wield  the  scourge  before 
taking  up  the  nails.  That  livid  back,  swollen  and  bloody,  was 
ready  for  the  cross;  torn  and  raw  as  it  was,  it  would  add  to 
the  suffering  of  crucifixion  when  they  stretched  it  out  on  the 
rough  wood  of  the  cross.  Now  they  could  stop,  the  court¬ 
yard  of  the  cowardly  stranger  was  stained  with  blood.  Serv¬ 
ants  that  very  day  might  wash  away  those  spots,  but  they 
would  start  out  again  on  the  well-washed  white  hands  of  Pontius 
Pilate. 

The  number  of  blows  prescribed  had  been  duly  administered, 
but  now,  after  their  taste  of  amusement,  the  legionaries  did  not 
wish  to  let  their  plaything  escape  at  once.  All  they  had  done 
so  far  was  to  execute  an  order  ;  now  they  wished  to  have  some 
entertainment  of  their  own.  This  man,  so  said  the  Jews  howl- 


346 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


ing  out  there  in  the  public  square,  pretended  to  be  a  king.  Let 
us  give  Him  His  wish,  this  madman,  and  thus  we  will  enrage 
those  who  refuse  Him  His  royal  dignity. 

A  soldier  took  off  his  scarlet  cloak,  the  red  chlamys  of  the 
legionaries,  and  threw  it  over  those  shoulders,  red  with  blood; 
another  took  up  a  handful  of  dry  thorns,  kindling  for  the 
brazier  of  the  night-watch,  twisted  a  couple  of  them  together 
like  a  crown  and  put  it  on  His  head;  a  third  had  a  slave  give 
Him  a  reed  and  forced  it  into  the  fingers  of  His  right  hand; 
then,  roaring  with  laughter,  they  pushed  Him  upon  a  seat. 
One  by  one,  passing  before  Him,  they  bent  their  knees  awk¬ 
wardly,  crying:  ^‘Hail,  King  of  the  Jews!’’ 

But  some  were  not  satisfied  with  this  burlesque  homage,  and 
one  of  them  struck  a  blow  at  the  cheek,  stilhshowing  the  marks 
of  the  fingers  of  Caiaphas’  servants;  one,  snatching  the  reed 
out  of  His  hand,  gave  Him  a  blow  on  the  head,  so  that  the 
thorns  of  His  crown  pierced  the  skin  and  made  about  His 
forehead  a  border  of  drops  red  as  His  cloak. 

They  would  perhaps  have  thought  of  some -Other  amusing 
diversion  if  the  Procurator,  coming  up  when  they  were  mak¬ 
ing  merry,  had  not  ordered  them  to  lead  the  scourged  King 
outside.  The  jocose  disguise  invented  by  the  legionaries  fitted 
in  with  the  sarcastic  intention  of  Pilate.  He  smiled,  and  tak¬ 
ing  Jesus  by  the  hand,  led  Him  to  the  crowd  of  wild  animals 
there,  and  cried:  ^^Behold  the  man!” 

THE  WASHING  OF  THE  HANDS 

“Behold  the  man!” 

And  he  turned  Christ’s  shoulders  towards  that  expanse  of 
yelling  muzzles  that  they  might  see  the  welts  left  by  the  rods, 
red  with  oozing  blood.  It  was  as  if  he  said:  Look  at  Him, 
your  King,  the  only  King  that  you  deserve,  in  His  true  majesty, 
tricked  out  as  befits  such  a  King.  His  crown  is  of  sharp 
thorns;  His  purple  cloak  is  the  chlamys  of  a  mercenary;  His 
scepter  is  a  dry  reed.  These  are  the  ornaments  merited  by 
your  degraded  King,  unjustly  rejected  by  a  degraded  people 
like  yourselves.  Was  it  His  blood  you  desired?  Here  is  His 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


347 


blood;  see  how  it  drops  from  the  thorns  of  Flis  crown.  There 
is  not  much  of  it,  but  it  ought  to  be  enough  for  you,  since  it  is 
innocent  blood.  It  is  shed  as  a  great  favor  to  you — to  satisfy 
you.  And  now  be  off  from  here,  for  you  have  troubled  me 
long  enough! 

But  the  Jews  were  quieted  neither  by  these  words  nor  by 
that  spectacle.  They  demanded  something  quite  other  than  a 
flogging  and  a  masquerade  before  they  would  go  their  ways. 
Pilate  thought  that  he  could  make  mock  of  them,  but  he  would 
realize  that  this  was  no  time  for  feeble  jokes.  They  had  had 
the  best  of  him  twice  already  and  they  v/ould  again.  A  few 
bruises  and  a  practical  joke  played  by  the  soldiery  were  not 
enough  to  punish  this  enemy  of  God  as  He  deserved;  there 
were  trees  in  Judea  and  nails  to  nail  Him  to  them.  And  their 
hoarse  voices  shouted  all  together,  “Let  him  be  crucified! 
Let  him  be  crucified!’’ 

Too  late  Pilate  realized  that  they  had  driven  him  into  a 
tangle  from  which  he  could  not  disengage  himself.  All  his 
decisions  were  combated  with  a  pertinacity  he  had  not  fore¬ 
seen.  By  a  flash  of  inspiration  he  had  pronounced  the  great 
words,  “Behold  the  man!”  But  he  himself  did  not  under¬ 
stand  that  proclamation  which  transcended  his  base  soul.  He 
did  not  realize  that  he  had  found  the  truth  he  was  seeking: 
a  half-truth,  but  deeper  than  all  the  teachings  of  the  philoso¬ 
phers  of  Rome  and  Greece.  He  did  not  understand  how  Jesus 
was  really  Man,  the  symbol  of  all  humanity,  sorrowing  and 
humiliated,  betrayed  by  its  rulers,  deceived  by  its  masters, 
crucified  every  day  by  the  Kings  who  oppress  their  subjects, 
by  the  rich  who  cause  the  poor  to  weep,  by  priests  who  think 
of  their  bellies  rather  than  of  God.  Jesus  is  the  Man 
of  Sorrows  announced  by  Isaiah,  the  man  without  form 
or  comeliness,  despised  and  rejected  of  men,  who  was  to 
be  killed  for  all  men;  He  is  God’s  only  son  who  had  taken 
on  man’s  flesh,  and  who  would  ascend  in  the  glory  of  power 
and  of  the  new  sun,  in  the  midst  of  the  blaring  of  the  trumpets 
calling  the  dead  to  life.  But  now  to  the  eyes  of  Pilate,  to  the 
eyes  of  Pilate’s  enemies.  He  was  only  a  wretched,  insignificant 
man,  flesh  for  rods  and  for  nails,  a  man  and  not  Man,  a 


348 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


mortal  and  not  a  God.  Why  did  Pilate  lose  time  with  those 
sibylline  remarks  before  delivering  Him  to  the  executioner? 

And  yet  Pilate  still  did  not  yield.  Standing  beside  that  silent 
man,  the  Roman  felt  his  heart  heavy  with  an  oppression  he 
had  never  known  before.  Who  could  this  man  be  whom  all 
the  people  wished  to  kill,  and  whom  he  could  neither  save  nor 
sacrifice?  He  turned  once  more  to  Jesus,  ^Whence  art  thou?” 

But  Jesus  gave  him  no  answer. 

“Speakest  thou  not  unto  me?  knowest  thou  not  that  I  have 
power  to  crucify  thee,  and  have  power  to  release  thee?” 

Then  the  insulted  King  raised  His  head,  “Thou  couldest 
have  no  power  at  all  against  me,  except  it  were  given  thee  from 
above:  therefore  he  that  delivered  me  unto  thee  hath  the 
greater  sin.” 

Caiaphas  and  his  associates  were  the  guilty  ones;  the  others 
were  dogs  incited  by  Caiaphas,  mere  tools  of  Caiaphas.  Even 
Pilate  was  only  an  indocile  instrument  of  priestly  hatred  and 
of  the  Divine  will. 

But  the  Procurator  in  his  perplexity  found  no  new  expedient 
to  free  himself  from  the  net  about  him,  and  returned  to  his 
fixed  idea,  “Behold  your  King!” 

The  Jews,  infuriated  by  this  repeated  insult,  burst  out,  en¬ 
raged,  “If  thou  let  this  man  go,  thou  art  not  Caesar’s  friend; 
whosoever  maketh  himself  a  king  speaketh  against  Caesar.” 

At  last  they  had  hit  on  the  right  words  to  bring  pressure  on 
weak,  cowardly  Pilate.  Every  Roman  magistrate,  no  matter 
how  high  his  rank,  depended  on  Caesar’s  favor.  Pilate’s  repu¬ 
tation  might  be  ruined  by  an  accusation  of  this  sort,  presented 
with  ability,  by  malicious  advocates — and  there  were  plenty  of 
those  among  the  Hebrevv^s,  as  was  shown  later  by  the  memorial 
of  Philo.  But  in  spite  of  the  threat,  Pilate  cried  out  his  last 
and  weakest  question,  “Shall  I  crucify  your  king?” 

The  High  Priests,  feeling  that  they  were  on  the  point  of  win¬ 
ning,  answered  with  their  last  lie,  “We  have  no  king  but 
Caesar.” 

Pilate  surrendered.  He  was  forced  to  yield  unless  he  wished 
to  start  an  uproar  which  might  set  all  Judea  on  fire.  His  con- 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


349 

science  did  not  disturb  him:  had  he  not  tried  everything  pos¬ 
sible  to  save  this  man  who  did  not  wish  to  save  Himself? 

He  had  tried  to  save  Him  by  referring  the  matter  to  the 
Sanhedrin,  which  could  nat  pronounce  a  death  sentence;  he 
had  tried  to  save  Him  by  sending  Him  to  Herod;  he  had  tried 
to  save  Him  by  affirming  that  he  found  no  fault  in  Him;  he 
had  tried  to  save  Him  by  offering  to  free  Him  in  the  place  of 
Bar  abbas;  he  had  tried  to  save  Him  by  having  Him  scourged 
in  the  hope  that  this  ignominious  punishment  would  pacify 
them;  he  had  tried  to  save  Him  by  seeking  to  arouse  a  little 
pity  in  those  hardened  hearts.  But  all  his  maneuvers  had 
failed,  and  he  certainly  did  not  wish  the  whole  province  to  rise 
on  account  of  that  unfortunate  Prophet;  and  even  less  was  he 
willing  that  on  His  account  they  should  accuse  him  before 
Tiberius  and  have  him  deposed. 

Pilate  thought  himself  innocent  of  the  blood  of  this  inno¬ 
cent  man.  And  in  order  that  they  might  all  have  a  visible 
representation  of  that  innocence  which  they  would  not  forget, 
he  had  a  basin  of  water  brought  to  him  and  washed  his  hands 
there  before  them  all,  saying,  ‘T  am  innocent  of  the  blood  of 
this  just  person:  see  ye  to  it.” 

Then  answered  all  the  people  and  said,  “His  blood  be  on  us, 
and  on  our  children.” 

“Then  released  he  Barabbas  unto  them:  and  when  he  had 
scourged  Jesus  he  delivered  him  to  be  crucified.” 

But  the  water  which  flowed  over  his  hands  was  not  enough 
to  cleanse  them.  His  hands  are  still  blood-stained,  and  will  be 
to  all  eternity.  He  might  have  saved  Christ  if  he  had  really 
wished.  Jesus  was  sent  to  Golgotha  by  Pilate’s  subterfuges, 
by  the  multiple  forms  taken  by  the  cowardice  of  Pilate’s  soul, 
poisoned  by  the  irony  of  skeptics.  He  would  have  been  less 
base  if  he  had  really  believed  Christ  guilty  and  had  given  his 
consent  to  the  assassination.  But  he  knew  that  there  was  no 
fault  in  Jesus,  that  Jesus  was  a  just  man  as  Claudia  Procula 
had  said,  as  he  himself  had  repeated  after  her.  There  is  no 
excuse  for  a  man  in  authority  who,  fearing  for  himself,  allows 
a  just  man  to  be  killed:  he  holds  office  in  order  to  protect  the 


350 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


just  against  assassins  But  Pilate  said,  have  done  every¬ 
thing  that  I  could  to  save  Him  from  the  hands  of  the  unjust.” 
That  was  not  true;  he  had  tried  many  ways,  but  not  the  only 
way  which  could  have  succeeded.  He  had  not  offered  himself, 
had  not  sacrificed  himself,  had  not  been  willing  to  risk  his 
dignity  and  his  fortune  The  Jews  hated  Jesus,  but  they  also 
hated  Pilate,  who  had  harassed  and  derided  them  so  many 
times.  Instead  of  proposing  the  seditious  Barabbas  in  ex^ 
change  for  Jesus,  he  ought  to  have  proposed  himself,  Pontius 
Pilate,  Procurator  of  Judea,  and  perhaps  the  people  might 
have  accepted  the  bargain.  No  other  victim  except  himself 
would  have  satisfied  the  rage  of  the  Jews.  It  would  not  have 
been  necessary  for  him  to  die.  It  would  have  been  enough  to 
let  them  denounce  him  to  Csesar  as  Caesar’s  enemy.  Tiberius 
would  have  deposed  him  and  perhaps  have  banished  him,  but 
he  would  have  taken  into  exile  and  into  disgrace  a  comforting 
certainty  of  innocence.  Little  did  his  shifts  avail  him;  for 
the  fate  he  now  sought  to  avert  by  giving  Jesus  over  into  the 
hands  of  his  adversaries  fell  upon  him  a  few  years  later.  The 
Jews  and  the  Samaritans  accused  him;  the  Governor  of  Syria 
deposed  him,  and  Caligula  banished  him  to  the  frontiers  of 
Gaul.  But  he  was  followed  into  his  exile  by  the  shade  of  that 
great,  silent  man,  assassinated  with  his  consent.  In  vain  had 
he  constructed  in  Jerusalem  the  great  reservoir  full  of  water, 
in  vain  had  he  washed  himself  with  that  water  before  the  mul¬ 
titude.  That  water  was  Jewish  water,  turbid  and  ill-omened 
water  that  did  not  cleanse.  No  washing  will  ever  cleanse  his 
hands  from  the  stains  left  on  them  by  the  divine  blood  of 
Christ. 


GOOD  FRIDAY 

The  sun  rose  higher  in  the  clear  April  sky  and  now  it  was 
near  to  noon.  The  contest  between  the  flaccid  defender  and 
the  furious  assailants  had  wasted  most  of  the  morning,  and 
there  was  no  time  to  lose.  According  to  Mosaic  law,  the  bodies 
of  executed  criminals  could  not  remain  after  sunset  on  the 
place  of  punishment,  and  April  days  are  not  as  long  as  June 
days. 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


351 


Moreover,  Caiaphas,  reenforced  though  he  was  by  so  many 
furiously  enraged  partisans,  could  not  draw  a  tranquil  breath 
until  the  Vagabond’s  feet  were  forever  halted,  fastened  with 
iron  nails  on  the  cross.  He  remembered  how,  a  few  days  be¬ 
fore,  Jesus  had  entered  the  city  surrounded  with  waving 
branches  and  joyful  hymns.  He  was  sure  of  the  city  itself, 
but  at  this  period  it  was  full  of  provincials  come  from  every¬ 
where,  who  had  not  the  same  interests  and  the  same  passions 
as  the  clientele  dependent  on  the  Temple.  Those  Galileans 
especially,  who  had  followed  Him  until  now,  who  loved  Him, 
might  make  some  effort  at  resistance  and  put  off,  even  if  they 
did  not  actually  prevent,  the  real  votive  offering  of  that  day. 

Pilate,  too,  was  in  haste  to  have  that  troublesome,  innocent 
man  taken  away.  He  did  not  wish  to  think  of  Him  again.  He 
hoped  that  he  would  forget  after  His  death  that  look,  those 
words  and,  above  all,  his  own  corroding  uneasiness,  so  pain¬ 
fully  like  remorse.  Although  he  had  washed  and  dried  his 
hands,  that  man  in  His  silence,  it  seemed  to  him,  was  sentencing 
him  to  a  penalty  worse  than  death  itself.  Before  that  scourged 
man,  at  the  point  of  death,  he  felt  himself  the  guilty  one.  To 
vent  his  uneasiness  on  those  who  really  caused  it,  he  dictated 
the  wording  of  the  titulus  or  superscription,  which  the  con¬ 
demned  man  was  to  wear  about  His  neck  until  it  was  fastened 
above  His  head  at  the  top  of  the  cross,  as  follows:  “Jesus  of 
Nazareth  the  King  of  the  Jews.”  The  Scribe  wrote  these 
words  three  times  in  three  languages  in  clear,  red  letters  on  the 
white  wood. 

The  leaders  of  the  Jews,  who  had  remained  there,  craning 
their  necks,  to  hasten  the  preparations,  read  this  sarcastic  in¬ 
scription  and  protested.  They  said  to  Pilate,  “Write  not.  The 
King  of  the  Jews;  but  that  he  said,  I  am  King  of  the  Jews.” 

But  the  Procurator  cut  them  short  with  a  dry  brevity: 
“What  I  have  written  I  have  written.” 

These  are  the  last  words  recorded  of  him,  and  the  most  pro¬ 
found!  I  am  forced  to  make  you  a  present  of  the  life  of  this 
man,  but  I  do  not  deny  what  I  have  said.  Jesus  is  a  Nazarene, 
which  means  also,  saint.  And  He  is  your  King,  the  wretched 
King  who  fits  your  wretchedness.  I  wish  all  men  to  know 


352 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


how  your  ill-born  race  treats  saints  and  kings.  It  is  for  this 
I  have  written  these  words  in  Latin  and  Greek  as  well  as  in 
Hebrew.  And  now  be  off,  for  I  have  endured  you  long  enough, 
^^Quod  scripsi,  scripsi.” 

In  the  meantime  the  soldiers  had  put  back  on  the  King  His 
poor  man’s  garments  and  had  tied  the  notice  about  His  neck. 
Others  had  brought  out  from  the  storerooms  three  massive 
crosses  of  pine,  the  nails,  the  hammer  and  the  pincers.  The 
escort  was  ready.  Pilate  pronounced  the  usual  formula:  “I 
lictor,  expedi  crucem.”  And  the  sinister  procession  moved 
forward. 

The  Centurion  rode  at  the  head,  he  whom  Tacitus  calls  with 
terrible  brevity,  ^^exactor  mortis.”  Immediately  after  him 
came,  in  the  midst  of  the  armed  legionaries,  Jesus  and  the  two 
thieves  who  were  to  be  crucified  with  Him.  Each  of  them  car¬ 
ried  a  cross  on  his  shoulders,  according  to  the  Roman  rule. 
And  behind  them,  the  shuffling  steps  and  the  uproar  of  the  ex¬ 
cited  crowd,  increased  at  every  step  by  accomplices  and  idle 
sight-seers. 

It  was  Parasceve,  the  day  of  preparations,  the  last  night  be¬ 
fore  the  Passover.  Thousands  of  lambs’  skins  were  stretched 
out  on  the  sunlit  roofs;  and  from  every  house  rose  a  column 
of  smoke,  delicate  as  a  flower-bud,  which  opened  out  in  the  air 
and  then  was  lost  in  the  clear,  festal  sky.  Old  women  with 
malignant  faces,  mumbling  anathemas,  emerged  from  the 
dark  alley-ways;  dirty-faced  little  children  trotted  along  with 
bundles  under  their  arms  ;  bearded  men  carried  on  their  shoul¬ 
ders  a  kid  or  a  cask  of  wine;  drovers  were  dragging  along  asses 
with  hanging  heads;  children  stared  with  impudent  and  mel¬ 
ancholy  eyes  at  the  foreigners  who  were  walking  about  cir¬ 
cumspectly,  impeded  by  this  festal  bustling.  In  every  home 
the  house-mother  was  busy,  preparing  everything  needful  for 
the  next  day,  because  with  the  setting  of  the  sun  every  one  was 
exempt  for  twenty-four  hours  from  the  curse  of  Adam.  The 
lambs,  skinned  and  quartered,  were  all  ready  for  the  fire;  the 
loaves  of  unleavened  bread  were  piled  up  fresh  from  the  oven  ; 
men  were  decanting  the  wine,  and  the  children  to  lend  a  hand 
somewhere  were  cleaning  the  bitter  herbs. 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


353 


There  was  no  one  idle,  no  one  whose  heart  was  not  rejoicing 
at  the  thought  of  that  festal  day  of  repose,  when  all  families 
would  be  gathered  about  the  father,  when  they  would  eat  in 
peace  and  drink  the  wine  of  Thanksgiving  from  the  same  cup; 
and  God  would  be  witness  of  this  cheer  because  the  psalms  of 
the  grateful  would  go  up  to  Him  from  every  house.  On  that 
day  even  the  poor  felt  themselves  almost  rich;  and  the  rich, 
because  of  their  unusual  profits,  felt  themselves  almost  gen¬ 
erous;  and  children  whose  hopes  had  not  yet  been  dashed 
by  experience  of  life  felt  themselves  more  loving;  and  women 
more  loved. 

Everywhere  there  was  that  peaceful  confusion,  that  good- 
natured  tumult,  that  joyous  bustle  which  goes  before  a  great, 
popular  feast-day.  An  odor  of  hope  and  of  Spring  purified 
the  old  filth  of  the  Jewish  ant-heap.  And  the  great  eastern  sun 
sent  down  a  flood  of  light  upon  the  four  Hills. 

SIMON  OF  GYRENE 

Under  that  festal  sky,  through  that  festal  crowd,  slow  as  a 
funeral  procession,  the  sinister  column  of  the  bearers  of  the 
cross  made  its  way.  About  them  everything  spoke  of  joy  and 
of  life,  and  they  were  going  to  burning  thirst  and  to  death. 
About  them  all  men  were  waiting  joyfully  to  spend  the  evening 
with  their  loved  ones,  to  sit  down  at  the  well-garnished  table, 
to  drink  the  bright,  genial  wine  served  on  feast-days,  to  stretch 
themselves  out  on  their  beds  to  wait  for  the  most  longed-for 
Sabbath  morning  of  the  year.  And  the  three,  cut  off  forever 
from  those  who  loved  them,  would  be  stretched  upon  the  cross 
of  infamy,  would  drink  only  a  sip  of  bitter  wine,  and,  cold 
in  death,  would  be  thrown  into  the  cold  earth. 

At  the  sound  of  the  Centurion’s  horse,  people  stepped  to 
one  side  and  stopped  to  look  at  the  wretched  men  toiling  and 
sweating  under  their  terrible  burden.  The  two  thieves  seemed 
more  sturdy  and  callous,  but  the  first,  the  Man  of  Sorrows, 
seemed  scarcely  able  to  take  another  step.  Worn  out  by  the 
terrible  night,  by  His  four  questionings,  by  the  buffetings,  by 
the  beatings,  by  the  flogging,  disfigured  with  blood,  sweat, 


354 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


saliva,  and  by  the  terrible  effort  of  this  last  task  set  Him,  He 
did  not  seem  like  the  fearless  young  man  who  a  few  days  be¬ 
fore  had  scourged  the  vermin  out  of  the  Temple.  His  fair, 
shining  face  was  drawn  and  contracted  by  the  convulsions  of 
pain  ;  His  eyes,  red  with  suppressed  tears,  'were  sunken  in  their 
sockets;  on  His  shoulders,  torn  by  the  rods.  His  clothes  clung 
to  the  wounds,  increasing  His  sufferings;  His  legs,  more  than 
His  other  mem.bers,  felt  this  terrible  weakness,  and  they  bent 
under  His  weight  and  under  that  of  the  cross.  “The  spirit  is 
willing  but  the  flesh  is  weak.’’  After  the  vigil,  which  had  been 
the  beginning  of  His  agony,  how  many  blows  had  been  struck 
upon  that  flesh!  Judas’  kiss,  the  flight  of  His  friends,  the 
rope  on  His  wrists,  the  threats  of  the  judges,  the  blows  of  the 
guard,  the  cowardice  of  Pilate,  the  howling  demands  for  His 
death,  the  insults  of  the  legionaries,  and  now  this  weight  of  the 
cross,  carried  along  amid  the  sneers  and  scoffing  of  those  whom 
He  loved! 

Those  who  saw  Him  pass  took  no  notice  of  Him,  or  at  the 
most,  those  who  knew  how  to  read  tried  to  make  out  the  in¬ 
scription  which  hung  down  on  His  chest.  Many,  however, 
knew  Him  by  sight  and  by  name,  and  pointed  Him  out  to  their 
neighbors  with  learned  and  complacent  airs.  Some  of  them 
mingled  with  the  crowd,  following  behind  to  enjoy  to  the  end 
the  spectacle,  always  new,  of  a  man’s  death;  and  more  would 
have  followed  if  it  had  not  been  a  day  when  there  was  much 
to  do  at  home.  Those  who  had  begun  to  hope  in  Him  now 
despised  Him  because  He  had  not  been  stronger,  because  He 
had  let  Himself  be  taken  like  any  sneak-thief;  and  to  in¬ 
gratiate  themselves  with  the  Priests  and  Elders  mingled  with 
the  crowd,  they  cast  out  at  the  false  Messiah  as  He  went  by 
some  neatly  phrased  insult.  Very  few  were  those  who  felt 
any  movement  of  pity  to  see  Him  in  that  situation  and  among 
those  few  were  some  who  did  not  know  who  He  was,  who  were 
moved  merely  by  the  natural  pity  which  any  crowd  feels  for 
condemned  men.  Some  fev/  there  were  who  still  felt  a  little  love 
in  their  hearts  for  the  Master  who  had  loved  the  poor,  who  hadi 
healed  the  sick,  who  had  announced  the  Kingdom  so  muchj 
more  righteous  and  holy  than  the  kingdoms  then  in  existence! 


I 


» 

LIFE  OF  CHRIST  355 

and  ruining  the  earth.  But  these  were  few,  and  they  were 
almost  ashamed  of  that  secret  tenderness  for  one  whom  they 
had  believed  to  be  less  hated  or  more  powerful.  The  greater 
part  laughed,  satisfied  and  contented,  as  if  this  funeral  pro¬ 
cession  had  been  a  part  of  the  feast-day. 

Only  some  women,  their  heads  wrapped  in  their  cloaks,  came 
behind  all  the  rest,  weeping,  but  trying  to  hide  this  seditious 
grief. 

They  had  not  yet  come  to  the  Gate  of  Gardens,  but  they 
were  almost  there  when  Jesus,  His  strength  utterly  exhausted, 
fell  to  the  ground  and  lay  there  stretched  under  His  cross.  His 
face  had  suddenly  gone  white  as  snow;  the  reddened  eyelids 
were  dropped  over  His  eyes  ;  He  would  have  seemed  dead  if  it 
had  not  been  for  the  painful  breath  coming  and  going  through 
His  half-open  mouth. 

They  all  stopped,  and  a  dense  circle  of  jeering  men  stretched 
out  their  faces  and  hands  towards  the  fallen  man.  The  Jews, 
who  had  followed  Him  from  Caiaphas’  house,  would  not  listen 
to  reason. 

‘^He  is  only  pretending,”  they  cried.  ‘Tift  Him  up!  He  is  a 
hypocrite!  He  ought  to  carry  the  cross  to  the  last!  That  is  the 
law  !  Give  Him  a  kick,  as  you  would  to  an  ass,  and  let  Him  get 
along!” 

Others  said,  “Look  at  the  great  King  who  was  to  conquer 
Kingdoms.  He  cannot  manage  even  two  sticks  of  wood,  and 
yet  He  wanted  to  wear  armor.  He  said  that  He  was  more 
than  a  man,  and  see.  He  is  a  womanish  creature  who  faints 
away  at  the  first  work  given  Him.  He  made  paralytics  walk 
and  He  Himself  cannot  stand  up.  Give  Him  a  cup  of  wine  to 
bring  back  His  strength.” 

But  the  Centurion  who,  like  Pilate,  was  in  great  haste  to 
finish  his  distasteful  task,  was  experienced  in  the  handling  of 
men,  and  saw  clearly  that  the  unfortunate  Jesus  would  never 
be  able  to  drag  the  cross  along  all  the  way  to  Golgotha.  Fie 
cast  his  eyes  about  to  find  some  one  to  carry  that  weight.  Just 
at  that  moment  there  came  in  from  the  country  a  Cyrenian 
called  Simon,  who,  at  the  sight  of  so  many  people,  had  stepped 
into  the  crowd  and  was  looking  with  an  astonished  and  pitying 


356 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


expression  at  the  body  prostrate  and  panting  under  the  two 
beams.  The  Centurion  saw  that  he  had  a  kindly  look,  and  fur¬ 
thermore  that  he  was  strongly  built,  and  called  to  him,  saying, 
‘Take  this  cross  and  come  after  us.’’ 

Without  a  word  the  Cyrenian  obeyed,  perhaps  out  of  good¬ 
ness  of  heart,  but  in  any  case  from  necessity,  because  the  Ro¬ 
man  soldiers  in  the  countries  which  they  occupied  had  the  right 
to  force  any  one  to  help  them.  “If  a  soldier  gives  you  some 
task  to  do,”  wrote  Arrian,  “be  careful  not  to  resist  him  and  not 
to  murmur,  otherwise  you  will  be  beaten.” 

We  know  nothing  more  of  the  merciful-hearted  man  who  lent 
his  broad  countryman’s  shoulders  to  lighten  Jesus’  load,  but 
we  know  that  his  sons,  Alexander  and  Rufus,  were  Christians, 
and  it  is  extremely  probable  that  they  were  converted  by  their 
father’s  telling  them  of  the  death  of  which  he  was  an  enforced 
witness. 

Two  soldiers  helped  the  fallen  man  up  on  His  feet,  and 
urged  Him  forward.  The  procession  took  up  its  way  again 
under  the  noon-day  sun,  but  the  two  thieves  muttered  between 
their  teeth  that  no  one  thought  of  them,  and  that  it  was  not 
right  that  that  other  man  by  pretending  to  fall  should  be  freed 
of  His  burden  while  they  still  were  forced  to  carry  theirs.  It 
was  favoritism,  nothing  less,  especially  as  that  fellow,  to  hear 
what  the  priests  said  about  Him,  was  much  more  guilty  than 
they.  From  that  moment  His  two  companions  in  punishment, 
jealous  of  Him,  began  to  hate  Him,  and  were  to  insult  Him 
even  when  they  were  nailed  at  His  side  on  the  crosses  which 
they  were  then  carrying  on  their  backs. 

FORGIVE  THEM 

The  Centurion  halted  outside  the  old  walled  city,  in  the 
midst  of  the  young  verdure  of  the  suburban  gardens.  The  city 
of  Caiaphas  did  not  allow  capital  punishment  within  its  walls; 
the  air  perfumed  with  the  virtue  of  the  Pharisees  would  be 
polluted;  and  the  soft  hearts  of  the  Sadducees  would  be  dis¬ 
tressed;  hence,  condemned  prisoners  were  expelled  from  the 
city  before  their  death. 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


357 


They  had  stopped  on  the  summit  of  a  rounded  mound  of 
limestone  resembling  a  skull.  This  resemblance  might  seem 
to  be  the  reason  for  choosing  this  place  for  executions,  but  the 
real  reason  was  rather  because  the  two  great  roads  from  Jaffa 
and  Damascus  crossed  each  other  close  at  hand,  and  it  was 
well  that  the  cross  should  show  its  terrible  warning  to  the 
traveling  multitude  of  pilgrims,  merchants  and  provincials. 

The  sun,  the  benign  sun  of  the  solstice,  the  high  noon-day 
sun,  shone  on  the  white  mound  and  on  the  mattocks  ringing 
sonorously  in  the  rock.  In  the  nearby  gardens  the  spring 
flowers  expanded  in  the  mild  air;  singing  birds,  hidden  in  the 
trees,  rent  the  sky  with  the  silver  arrows  of  their  warblings; 
doves  flew  about  in  pairs  in  the  warm,  pastoral  peace.  It  would 
be  sweet  to  live  there  in  some  well-watered  garden  beside  a 
well,  in  the  perfume  of  the  earth  avN^akening  and  clothing  itself, 
awaiting  the  harvest  moon,  in  company  with  loving  friends! 
Days  of  Galilee,  days  of  peace,  days  of  sunshine  and  friendship 
among  the  vineyards,  beside  the  lake,  days  of  light  and  liberty, 
wandering  with  friends  who  listened  understanding^,  days 
drawing  to  a  close  v/ith  the  well-earned  cheerfulness  of  supper, 
days  which  seemed  eternal,  although  they  were  so  short! 

Now  Thou  hast  no  one  with  Thee,  Jesus,  called  the  Christ. 
These  soldiers  preparing  that  appalling  bed,  these  thieves  in¬ 
sulting  Thee,  those  hounds  awaiting  Thy  blood,  are  only  shad¬ 
ows,  cast  by  the  great  shadow  of  God.  Thou  art  alone  as  Thou 
wert  alone  at  night;  the  sun  that  warms  Thy  assassins  is  not 
for  Thee.  Before  Thee  lies  no  other  day,  no  other  journey; 
ended  are  Thy  wanderings  and  now  at  last  Thou  canst  rest; 
this  skull  of  rock  is  Thy  goal.  A  few  hours  hence.  Thine  im¬ 
prisoned  spirit  shall  be  torn  from  its  dungeon. 

God’s  human  face  is  wet  with  cold  sweat.  The  blows  of  the 
mattocks  ring  in  His  head,  as  if  they  struck  at  Him;  the  sun 
which  He  loved  so  much,  symbol  of  the  Father,  just  even  to  the 
unjust,  now  falls  harshly  on  His  aching  eyes  and  swollen  eye¬ 
lids.  His  whole  body  aches  with  weariness,  trembles  in  a 
yearning  for  rest  which  He  resists  with  all  His  soul.  Has  He 
not  promised  to  suffer  as  much  as  is  needful  up  to  the  very 
last?  At  the  same  time  it  seems  to  Him  that  He  loves  with  a 


358 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


more  intimate  tenderness  those  whom  He  is  leaving,  even  those 
who  are  working  for  His  death.  And  from  the  depths  of  His 
soul,  like  a  song  of  victory  over  the  torn  and  weary  flesh,  rise 
up  the  words,  never  to  be  forgotten  by  men,  “Father,  forgive 
them;  for  they  know  not  what  they  do.” 

No  more  divine  prayer  was  ever  raised  to  Heaven  since  men 
have  lived  and  prayed;  it  is  not  the  prayer  of  a  man,  but  of  a 
God  to  a  God.  Men,  who  cannot  pardon  even  the  innocence  of 
an  innocent  man,  had  never  before  that  day  dreamed  that  a 
man  might  pray  for  the  forgiveness  of  those  who  were  putting 
him  to  death. 

For  they  know  not  what  they  do!  Wrongs  consciously 
wrought  cannot  be  absolved  without  assurance  of  repentance. 
But  the  ignorance  of  men  is  so  appallingly  great  that  only  a 
few  really  know  what  they  do. 

Jesus  had  taught  what  men  should  know;  but  how  many 
knew  it?  Even  His  own  Disciples,  the  only  ones  to  know  that 
Jesus  was  Christ,  had  been  overcome  by  the  fear  of  losing  this 
last  remnant  of  their  lives;  even  as  they  fled  away,  they  had 
shown  that  they  did  not  know  what  they  did.  And  even  more 
ignorant  of  what  they  really  did  were  the  Pharisees,  fearful  of 
losing  their  preeminence;  the  Doctors,  fearful  of  losing  their 
privileges;  the  rich,  fearful  of  losing  their  money;  Pilate,  fear¬ 
ful  of  losing  his  office;  and  most  ignorant  of  all  were  the  Jews, 
misled  by  their  leaders,  and  the  soldiers  obedient  to  orders. 
None  of  them  knew  who  Christ  was  and  what  Fie  came  to  do, 
and  why  He  was  killed.  Some  of  them  were  to  know  it,  but 
afterwards,  and  they  came  to  know  it  only  through  the  inter¬ 
cession  of  the  Man  whom  they  were  killing. 

Now,  at  the  point  of  death,  He  had  confirmed  His  most  dif¬ 
ficult  and  divine  teaching,  “Love  for  enemies,”  and  He  could 
now  hold  out  His  hands  to  the  hammer.  The  crosses  had  been 
raised  ;  now  they  were  piling  stones  about  them  to  steady  them 
under  the  weight,  and  were  filling  the  holes  with  earth,  stamp¬ 
ing  it  down  with  their  feet. 

The  women  of  Jerusalem  approached  the  condemned  Man 
with  a  pitcher.  It  contained  a  mixture  of  wine,  incense  and 
myrrh,  which  the  executioners^  out  of  the  goodness  of  their 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


359 


hearts,  imagined  would  dull  consciousness.  Those  very  people 
who  were  making  Him  suffer  pretended  as  a  last  insult  that  they 
had  mercy  on  that  suffering,  and  by  reducing  it  by  the  merest 
trifle  they  thought  they  had  the  greater  right  to  demand  that 
the  rest  of  the  cup  of  suffering  be  drained.  But  Jesus,  as 
soon  as  He  had  tasted  this  mixture,  bitter  as  gall,  pushed  it 
away.  He  would  have  accepted  a  single  word  in  place  of  the 
wine,  but  the  only  one  on  that  day  who  could  find  the  word  to 
say  was  one  of  the  thieves  whom  they  had  dragged  up  to  the 
place  of  the  skull  with  Him. 

The  incense  and  the  myrrh  which  they  offered  Him  on  that 
day  were  not  perfumed  like  that  incense  and  myrrh  brought 
to  Him  in  the  stable  by  the  Wise  Men  from  the  distant  Orient. 
And  in  place  of  the  gold  which  had  lighted  the  dingy  darkness 
of  the  stable,  there  was  the  iron  of  the  nails,  gray  now,  waiting 
to  be  reddened.  And  that  wine  which  seemed  poisoned  so  bit¬ 
ter  was  it,  was  not  the  genial  nuptial  wine  of  Cana,  nor  that 
which  He  had  drunk  the  evening  before,  warm  and  dark  as 
blood  dripping  from  a  wound. 

FOUR  NAILS 

On  the  top  of  the  hill  of  the  Skull  the  three  crosses,  tall, 
dark,  with  outspread  beams  like  giants  with  outstretched  arms, 
stood  out  against  the  great  sweep  of  the  sweet  spring  sky. 
They  threw  no  shadow,  but  they  were  outlined  by  brilliant 
reflections  from  the  sun.  The  beauty  of  the  world  on  that  day 
in  that  hour  was  so  great  that  tortures  were  unthinkable  ;  could 
they  not,  those  wooden  branches,  blossom  out  with  field  flow¬ 
ers,  and  be  wreathed  with  garlands  of  tender  green,  hiding  the 
scaffold  with  verdure,  in  the  shade  of  which  reconciled  and 
friendly  brothers  might  sit  down? 

But  the  Priests,  the  Scribes,  the  Pharisees,  those  who  gloated 
over  suffering  and  over  revenge,  who  had  come  there  to  satisfy 
their  morbid  appetites  with  the  spectacle  of  three  deaths,  were 
stamping  with  impatience,  and  jeeringly  hastening  on  the 
Romans. 

The  Centurion  gave  an  order.  Two  soldiers  approached 


36o 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


Jesus  and  with  rapid,  rough  gestures  removed  all  His  clothes. 
The  criminal  condemned  to  crucifixion  must  be  entirely  naked. 

As  soon  as  He  was  stripped,  they  passed  two  ropes  under  His 
armpits,  and  hoisted  Him  up  on  the  cross.  Half-way  up  on 
the  upright  was  a  rough  wooden  peg  like  a  seat  where  the 
body  was  to  find  a  precarious  and  painful  support.  Another 
soldier  leaned  the  ladder  against  one  of  the  arms  of  the  cross, 
climbed  up  on  it,  hammer  in  hand,  seized  the  hand  which  had 
cured  lepers  and  caressed  little  children’s  hair,  spread  it  out  on 
the  wood  and  drove  a  nail  into  the  middle  of  the  palm.  The 
nails  were  long,  and  with  a  wide  head  so  that  they  could  be 
easily  hammered.  The  soldier  struck  a  vigorous  blow,  which 
pierced  the  flesh  at  once,  and  then  another  and  a  third  so  that 
the  nail  would  hold  firmly  and  so  that  only  the  head  would 
remain  outside.  A  little  blood  spurted  out  from  the  pierced 
hand  upon  the  hammering  hand,  but  the  diligent  workman 
paid  no  attention  to  it,  and  continued  to  hammer  away  vigor¬ 
ously  until  his  work  was  properly  done.  Then  he  came  down 
the  ladder  and  did  the  same  to  the  other  hand. 

All  the  spectators  had  fallen  silent,  hoping  to  hear  screams 
from  the  condemned  man.  But  Jesus  was  silent  before  His 
executioners  as  He  had  been  silent  before  His  judges. 

Now  they  turned  their  attention  to  the  feet.  This  was  work 
which  could  be  done  standing  on  the  ground,  for  the  Roman 
crosses  were  set  so  low  that,  if  the  bodies  of  the  executed  crim¬ 
inals  were  left  on  them  too  long,  prowling  dogs  and  jackals 
could  tear  out  their  bowels  and  eat  them. 

The  soldier  who  was  nailing  Christ  on  the  cross  now  lifted 
up  His  knees  so  that  the  soles  of  His  feet  should  be  flat  against 
the  v/ood,  and  taking  the  measure  so  that  the  iron  nail  should 
be  long  enough  to  go  through  the  instep,  he  pierced  the 
first  foot,  and  drove  the  nail  home.  He  did  the  same  to  the 
other  foot,  and  at  the  end  glanced  up,  still  with  his  hammer  in 
his  hand,  to  see  if  he  had  finished  his  work,  and  if  anything 
was  lacking.  He  remembered  the  scroll  which  they  had  taken 
from  Jesus’  neck  and  flung  down  on  the  ground.  He  picked  it 
up,  climbed  again  up  the  ladder,  and  with  two  nails  fastened 
it  on  the  upright  of  the  cross,  above  the  thorn-crowned  head. 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST  361 

Then  he  came  down  the  ladder  for  the  last  time,  threw  away 
his  hammer,  and  looked  to  see  if  his  companions  had  finished 
their  work.  The  thieves,  too,  were  now  in  place  and  all  three 
crosses  had  their  flesh-offerings.  The  soldiers  could  rest  and 
divide  the  garments  which  henceforth  the  men  up  there  on  the 
crosses  needed  no  more.  This  was  the  perquisite  of  the  execu¬ 
tioners  and  came  to  them  by  law.  Four  soldiers  had  a  right  to 
Jesus^  clothes  and  they  divided  them  into  four  parts.  This  left 
the  tunic,  which  was  without  seam,  woven  all  in  one  piece.  It 
would  be  a  sin  to  cut  it,  for  after  that  it  would  be  of  no  use 
to  any  one;  but  one  of  them,  an  old  gambler,  took  out  his  dice, 
threw  them,  and  the  tunic  was  awarded  by  luck.  From  now 
on  the  only  possession  of  the  King  of  the  Jews  was  the  thorns 
of  His  crown  which,  as  a  greater  insult,  they  had  left  on  His 
head. 

All  was  finished:  the  drops  of  blood  fell  slowly  from  His 
hands  on  the  ground  and  the  blood  from  His  feet  reddened  the 
cross.  From  now  on  He  was  to  flee  no  more;  His  blaspheming 
mouth  was  soon  to  be  gaping  in  agony,  but  it  was  to  teach  no 
more  forever.  The  assassins  might  be  satisfied  with  them¬ 
selves  and  with  the  foreign  executioners.  The  poisoner  of  the 
people,  the  enemy  of  the  Temple  and  of  business,  was  fastened 
with  four  solid  nails  on  the  tree  of  ignominy.  From  that  night 
on  the  lords  of  Jerusalem  could  sleep  more  peacefully. 

A  clamor  of  demoniac  laughter,  of  exultant  exclamations,  of 
ferocious  jests  rose  from  the  crowd  about  Golgotha.  There  He 
was,  the  bird  of  ill-omen,  nailed  with  outspread  wings.  The 
poor  man,  satisfied  if  He  had  but  a  tunic,  now  was  altogether 
naked;  the  vagabond,  who  had  only  a  stone  on  which  to  lay 
His  head,  now  had  a  fine  pillow  of  wood;  the  impostor  who 
deceived  with  His  miracles,  no  longer  had  His  hands  free  to 
mold  the  clay  which  restored  sight  to  the  blind;  the  throne  of 
the  King  was  a  hard  wooden  peg;  the  hater  of  Jerusalem  was 
!  hung  up  in  sight  of  the  Holy  City;  the  Master  with  so  many 
disciples  now  had  as  companions  only  two  thieves  who  insulted 
■  Him,  and  four  bored  soldiers.  ^^Call  on  the  Father  mow  to 
save  Thee,  ask  for  a  legion  of  angels  to  take  Thee  away  from 
there  and  disperse  us  with  flaming  swords.  Then  even  we  will 


362 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


believe  that  Thou  art  the  Christ,  and  we  will  fall  down  with 
our  faces  in  the  dust  to  adore  Thee.’’ 

And  some  of  the  priests,  shaking  their  heads,  said:  ‘Thou 
that  destroyest  the  temple,  and  buildest  it  in  three  days,  save 
thyself.  If  thou  be  the  Son  of  God,  come  down  from  the 
cross.” 

This  challenge  recalls  that  of  Satan  in  the  desert.  They, 
like  Satan,  wished  for  a  prodigy.  They  had  asked  so  many 
times  for  a  sign!  “It  would  be  a  fine  sign  if  Thou  couldst 
loosen  the  four  nails  and  come  down  from  the  cross,  and  if 
the  power  of  the  Father  should  flame  out  in  the  Heavens  de¬ 
stroying  us  as  God-killers.  But  Thou  seest  well  that  the  nails 
are  strong  and  are  not  loosened,  and  that  no  one  appears  to  aid 
Thee  from  heaven  or  from  earth.” 

The  Scribes,  the  Elders,  mocked  Him  in  the  same  way,  and 
so  did  even  the  soldiers,  although  the  affair  was  none  of  theirs, 
and  even  the  thieves  also,  suffering  though  they  were  in  an¬ 
guish  with  Him. 

“He  saved  others;  himself  he  cannot  save.  _  If  he  be  the 
King  of  Israel,  let  him  now  come  down  from  the  cross,  and  we 
will  believe  him.  He  trusted  in  God;  let  him  deliver  him  now 
if  he  will  have  him:  ...  for  he  said,  I  am  the  Son  of  God.” 

He  had  announced  that  He  came  to  give  life,  but  now  He 
could  not  save  Himself  from  death!  He  had  boasted  that  He 
was  the  Son  of  God,  but  God  did  not  move  to  save  His  first¬ 
born  from  the  scaffold.  Therefore,  He  had  always  lied;  it  was 
not  true  that  He  had  ever  saved  any  one.  It  was  not  true  that 
God  was  His  Father,  and  if  He  had  lied  about  that.  He  had  lied 
about  everything,  and  deserved  this  fate.  There  was  no  need 
of  proof,  but  the  proof  was  there  so  clear  that  all  could  see  it, 
and  their  consciences  were  perfectly  at  rest.  If  any  miracle 
were  possible.  He  would  no  longer  be  crucified  there  to  agon¬ 
ize;  but  the  sky  was  empty  and  the  sun,  God’s  light,  shone 
clearly  that  all  men  might  see  more  clearly  the  contractions  of 
His  face  and  the  painful  heaving  of  His  chest. 

“What  a  pity  that  the  Romans  do  not  allow  our  old  punish¬ 
ment  for  blasphemers,  for  it  would  have  relieved  us  to  have 


LIFE  OF  CPIRIST 


363 


stoned  Thee  one  by  one.  Thus  every  one  v/ould  have  had  his 
share  of  pleasure,  taking  aim  at  the  head  with  well-directed 
stones,  and  covering  Thee  with  bruises,  clothing  Thee  in  a  tunic 
of  stones.  Once  before  when  the  adulteress  was  brought  be¬ 
fore  Thee  we  put  down  our  stones,  but  to-day  no  one  would  be 
backward,  and  Thou  wouldst  have  paid  for  Thee  and  for  her! 
The  cross  is  well  enough,  but  how  much  less  satisfying  for  the 
spectators!  If  only  these  foreigners  had  permitted  us  to  give 
a  blow  of  the  hammer  on  the  nails!  Thou  answerest  not? 
Hast  Thou  no  longer  any  desire  to  preach?  Canst  Thou  not 
come  down?  Why  dost  Thou  not  deign  to  convert  us  also? 
If  we  ought  to  love  Thee,  show  us  first  that  God  loves  Thee 
enough  to  do  a  great  miracle  to  save  Thee  from  death!’’ 

But  the  divine  Sacrifice  was  silent.  The  torture  of  the  fever, 
which  had  begun  already,  was  not  so  terrible  as  those  words  of 
His  brothers  who  were  crucifying  Him  a  second  time  on  the 
cross  of  their  appalling  ignorance. 

DISMAS 

The  thieves  who  had  been  crucified  with  Jesus  had  begun  to 
be  hostile  to  Him  in  the  street  when  He  was  liberated  from  the 
weight  of  His  cross.  They  felt  aggrieved  because  no  one 
thought  of  them;  they  were  to  die  the  same  death,  but  no  one 
seemed  to  think  of  this;  people  abused  Him,  but  at  least  they 
recognized  that  He  was  there,  they  were  all  thinking  about 
Him,  running  along  for  His  sake  as  if  He  had  been  alone.  It 
was  for  Him  that  all  those  people  were  following  along — im¬ 
portant  people,  educated  and  wealthy — it  was  for  Him  that 
the  women  were  weeping  and  that  even  the  Centurion  was 
moved  to  pity.  He  was  the  King  of  the  occasion,  this  coun¬ 
try  cheat,  and  He  drew  every  one’s  attention  as  if  He  had 
really  been  a  King.  Who  knew,  perhaps  the  wine  with  myrrh 
would  never  have  been  offered  to  them,  if  He  had  not  been  so 
fastidious  as  to  refuse  it. 

But  one  of  them,  when  he  heard  the  great  words  of  his  en¬ 
vied  companion,  ‘‘Forgive  them;  for  they  know  not  what  they 


364 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


do/’  suddenly  fell  silent.  That  prayer  was  so  new  for  him, 
summoned  him  to  emotions  so  foreign  to  his  nature  and  all  his 
life,  that  it  carried  him  back  at  one  stroke  to  his  almost  forgot¬ 
ten  childhood,  when  he  also  was  innocent,  and  when  he  knew 
there  was  a  God  of  whom  one  could  ask  for  peace  as  poor  men 
beg  for  bread  at  the  rich  man’s  door.  But  in  no  canticle  could 
he  remember  hearing  any  such  prayer  as  this,  so  extraordinary, 
so  paradoxical  in  the  mouth  of  one  who  was  at  that  moment 
being  killed.  And  yet  those  impossible  words  found  in  the 
thief’s  withered  heart  an  echo  of  something  he  would  have  liked 
to  believe,  above  all  at  that  moment  when  he  was  about  to  ap¬ 
pear  before  a  Judge  more  awful  than  those  of  the  law-courts. 
This  prayer  of  Jesus’  found  an  unexpected  echo  in  his  own 
thought,  a  thought  beyond  his  power  to  formulate  or  express, 
but  which  now  seemed  to  him  luminous  in  the  darkness  of  his 
fate.  Had  he  really  known  what  he  was  doing?  Had  other 
men  ever  thought  of  him?  Had  they  ever  done  for  him  what 
they  could  to  turn  him  from  evil?  Had  there  ever  been  any 
one  who  really  loved  him?  Had  any  one  given- him  food  when 
he  was  hungry  and  a  cloak  when  he  was  cold,  and  a  friendly 
word  when  suddenly  temptations  laid  siege  to  his  lonely  and 
dissatisfied  soul?  If  he  had  had  a  little  more  bread  and  love, 
would  he  have  committed  the  actions  which  had  brought  him 
to  Golgotha?  Was  he  not  also  among  those  who  knew  not  what 
they  do,  distraught  by  poverty,  abandoned  among  ambushed 
passions?  Were  they  not  thieves  like  him,  the  Levites  who 
trafficked  in  the  offerings  of  the  faithful,  the  Pharisees  who 
cheated  widows,  the  rich  men,  who  by  their  usury  drained  dry 
the  veins  of  the  poverty-stricken?  Those  were  the  men  who 
had  condemned  him  to  death;  but  what  right  had  they  to  kill 
him  if  they  had  never  done  anything  to  save  him,  and  if  they, 
too,  were  tainted  with  his  guilt? 

All  these  thoughts  went  through  his  distracted  heart  while 
he  waited  to  be  fastened  to  the  cross.  The  nearness  of  death — 
and  what  a  death! — this  unheard-of  prayer  of  the  man  who  was 
not  a  thief,  but  who  was  suffering  the  penalty  of  thieves,  the 
hate  which  deformed  the  faces  of  the  men  who  had  condemned 
him  also,  moved  his  poor,  maimed  soul,  and  inclined  him  to 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


365 


emotions  unfelt  since  his  boyhood,  to  emotions  the  very  name 
of  which  he  did  not  know,  but  which  were  very  like  to  tender¬ 
ness  and  repentance. 

When  they  were  all  on  the  cross,  the  other  thief,  although 
suffering  terribly  from  his  pierced  hands  and  feet,  began  again 
to  insult  Jesus.  He  also  began  to  vomit  out  the  challenge  of 
the  Jews,  “If  thou  be  Christ,  save  thyself  and  us.’’ 

If  He  were  really  the  Son  of  God  would  He  not  have  thought 
of  freeing  also  His  companions  in  misery?  Why  was  He  not 
moved  to  compassion?  Hence,  they  were  right,  those  men 
down  there:  Fie  was  a  deceiver,  a  man  of  no  account,  an  exe¬ 
crated  outcast.  And  the  anger  of  the  raging  thief  was  intensi¬ 
fied  by  his  fury  over  a  lost  hope,  an  abortive  hope,  an  impos¬ 
sible  dream  of  miraculous  salvation;  but  a  despairing  man 
hopes  even  for  the  impossible,  and  this  hope  withdrawn  seemed 
to  him  a  betrayal. 

But  the  Good  Thief  who  had  been  listening  to  him,  and  to 
the  other  raging  voices  shrieking  down  below,  now  turned  to 
his  companion.  “Dost  thou  not  fear  God,  seeing  thou  art  in 
the  same  condemnation?  And  we  indeed  justly;  for  we  re¬ 
ceive  the  due  reward  of  our  deeds;  but  this  man  has  done  noth¬ 
ing  amiss.” 

The  thief  had  passed  from  the  doubt  of  his  own  blame¬ 
worthiness  to  the  certainty  of  the  innocence  of  that  mysterious 
Pardoner  at  his  side.  “We  have  committed  deeds  (he  was  not 
willing  to  call  them  crimes)  which  men  punish,  but  this  man 
has  done  nothing  amiss,  and  yet  He  is  punished  as  we  are; 
why,  therefore,  insult  Him?  Hast  thou  no  fear  that  God  will 
punish  thee  for  having  humiliated  an  innocent  man?” 

And  he  turned  over  in  his  mind  what  he  had  heard  told  about 
Jesus — only  a  few  things  and  those  not  at  all  clear  to  him — 
but  he  knew  that  Jesus  had  spoken  of  a  Kingdom  of  Peace  and 
that  He  himself  was  to  be  at  the  head  of  it.  Then  with  im¬ 
petuous  faith  as  if  he  invoked  the  blood  which  fell  at  the  same 
moment  from  his  criminal  hands  and  from  those  guiltless 
hands,  he  cried  out  these  words,  “Lord,  remember  me  when 
thou  comest  into  thy  kingdom” 

We  have  suffered  together;  wilt  Thou  not  recognize  the  map 


366 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


who  was  beside  Thee  on  the  cross,  the  only  man  who  defended 
Thee  when  all  were  attacking  Thee? 

And  Jesus,  who  had  answered  no  man,  turned  His  head  as 
well  as  He  could  towards  the  pitying  thief  and  answered  him, 
‘‘Verily  I  say  unto  thee.  To-day  shalt  thou  be  with  me  in 
paradise.” 

He  could  promise  him  nothing  earthly:  what  would  it  have 
availed  him  to  be  unnailed  from  the  cross  and  to  drag  himself 
along  the  roads  of  the  earth  a  few  years  more,  crippled  and 
needy?  And  unlike  the  other  thief  he  had  not  asked  to  be 
saved  from  death:  he  had  asked  only  to  be  remembered  after 
his  death,  if  Jesus  should  return  in  glory.  Jesus  instead  of 
fleshly  and  uncertain  life  promised  him  the  eternal  life  of  Para¬ 
dise,  and  that  without  delay — “to-day.” 

He  had  sinned;  in  the  eyes  of  men,  he  had  gravely  sinned, 
he  had  taken  away  from  the  rich  a  little  of  their  riches,  per¬ 
haps  he  had  also  stolen  a  little  from  the  poor,  but  for  sinners 
ailing  with  an  illness  worse  than  any  bodily  weakness,  Jesus 
had  always  a  tenderness  of  which  He  made  no  show,  but  which 
He  was  never  willing  to  hide.  Had  He  not  come  to  bring  back 
to  the  warmth  of  the  stable  the  flock  lost  among  the  thorns  of 
the  countryside?  Were  not  the  wicked  already  sufficiently 
punished  with  their  own  wickedness?  And  those  who  thought 
themselves  righteous,  were  they  not  perhaps  often  more  cor¬ 
rupt  than  the  wicked  they  condemned?  Jesus  does  not  pardon 
all  men.  That  would  be  injustice,  holier  than  the  injustice  of 
the  world,  but  still  unjust.  But  a  single  motion  of  repentance, 
a  single  word  of  regret  is  enough.  The  prayer  of  the  thief  was 
enough  to  absolve  him. 

The  Good  Thief  was  Jesus’  last  convert  in  His  corporeal  ex¬ 
istence.  He  was  the  last  Disciple  and  at  the  same  time  the 
first  of  the  martyrs,  for  Peter’s  Gospel  tells  us  that  when  they 
heard  his  words,  the  Jews  were  angered  against  him  and 
demanded  that  his  legs  should  not  be  broken,  in  order  that  he 
might  die  in  greater  torment.  The  legs  of  crucified  men  were 
broken  out  of  mercy  that  their  sufferings  might  end  sooner; 
this  shortening  of  his  torture  was  refused  to  him  because  he 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST  367 

had  defended  Christ  and  believed  in  Him:  like  his  Master, 
he  was  forced  to  drink  his  cup  to  the  dregs. 

We  know  nothing  more  of  him;  only  his  name  preserved 
in  an  apocryphal  manuscript.  The  Church  has  received  him 
among  her  saints  because  of  this  promise  of  Christ,  with  the 
name  of  Dismas. 


THE  DARKNESS 

Jesus’  breathing  was  more  and  more  like  the  death-rattle. 
His  chest  heaved  with  convulsive  efforts  to  breathe;  loud,  pain¬ 
ful  pulses  hammered  at  His  temples.  His  heart  beat  so  rapidly 
and  so  violently  that  it  shook  Him  as  if  it  would  tear  Him 
loose;  the  feverish  thirst  of  crucified  men  flamed  all  over  His 
body,  as  if  His  blood  had  become  a  raging  molten  fire  in  His 
veins.  Stretched  in  that  painful  position,  nailed  to  the 
beams  and  not  able  to  move,  held  up  by  His  hands,  which 
were  lacerated  if  He  let  Himself  hang  by  them,  but  which, 
if  He  held  them  up,  exhausted  His  weak  and  worn-out  frame, 
that  young  and  divine  body  which  had  suffered  so  many  times 
because  it  contained  too  great  a  soul,  was  now  a  funeral  pyre 
of  suffering  where  all  the  sufferings  of  the  world  burned 
together. 

As  ancient  writers  admitted,  crucifixion  was  the  cruelest 
and  blackest  of  punishments.  It  gave  the  greatest  torture  for 
the  longest  time.  If  tetanus  set  in,  a  merciful  torpor  hastened 
death;  but  there  were  men  who  held  out,  suffering  always 
more  and  more,  until  the  second  day  after  crucifixion,  and 
even  longer.  The  thirst  of  their  fever,  the  congestion  of  their 
hearts,  the  rigidity  of  their  veins,  their  cramped  muscles,  the 
dizziness  and  terrible  pains  in  the  head,  the  ever-greater 
agony — all  these  were  not  enough  to  make  an  end  of  them. 
But  most  men  died  at  the  end  of  twelve  hours. 

The  blood  from  the  four  wounds  of  Jesus  had  clotted  about 
the  nail-heads,  but  every  movement  made  fresh  blood  gush 
out,  which  fell  slowly  along  the  cross  and  dripped  upon  the 
ground.  His  head  drooped  on  His  weary  neck;  His  eyes. 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


368 

those  mortal  eyes,  whence  God  had  looked  out  upon  the  earth, 
were  glazing  over  in  the  death  stupor;  and  His  livid  lips, 
parched  with  suffering  and  thirst,  drawn  by  His  painful  breath¬ 
ing,  were  withered  by  that  last  kiss,  the  poisonous  kiss  of 
Judas. 

Thus  died  a  God,  who  had  cooled  the  blood  of  the  feverish, 
had  given  the  water  of  life  to  the  thirsty,  who  had  raised  up 
the  dead  from  their  tombs,  who  had  quickened  the  paralyzed, 
cast  out  demons  from  obsessed  souls,  who  had  wept  with  the 
weeping,  who,  instead  of  punishing  the  wicked,  had  made  them 
to  be  born  again  into  a  new  life,  who  had  taught  with  poetic 
words  and  proved  by  miracles  that  glorious  aspiration — the 
life  of  perfect  love — which  raging  beasts  sunk  in  stupor  and 
in  blood  would  never  have  been  capable  of  discovering  for 
themselves.  He  had  healed  wounds  and  they  wounded  all 
His  perfect  body;  He  had  pardoned  evildoers,  and  evildoers 
nailed  Him,  an  innocent  man,  between  two  criminals;  He  had 
infinitely  loved  all  men,  even  those  unworthy  of  His  love,  and 
hatred  had  nailed  Him  there  where  hatred  punished  and  was 
punished;  He  had  been  more  righteous  than  righteousness  and 
they  had  wreaked  upon  Him  the  most  iniquitous  unrighteous¬ 
ness;  He  had  called  mean  souls  to  holiness  and  He  had  fallen 
into  the  hands  of  vilifiers  and  demons.  He  had  brought  life, 
and  in  return  they  gave  Him  the  most  ignominious  death. 

All  this  was  necessary  that  men  should  learn  again  the  road 
to  the  earthly  Paradise;  that  they  should  mount  above  drunken 
bestiality  and  attain  the  exaltation  of  the  saints;  that  they 
should  be  resurrected  from  their  sluggish  folly  which  seems 
life  and  is  death,  to  the  magnificence  of  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven. 

The  mind  may  bow  before  the  dreadful  mystery  of  this 
necessity,  but  the  heart  of  men  can  never  forget  the  price 
exacted  as  payment  of  our  debts.  For  nineteen  hundred  years, 
men  born  again  in  Christ,  worthy  to  know  Christ,  to  love 
Christ,  and  to  be  loved  by  Him,  have  wept,  at  least  once  in 
their  lives,  at  the  memory  of  that  day  and  of  that  suffering. 
But  all  our  tears  gathered  together  like  a  bitter  sea  do  not 
compensate  for  one  of  the  drops  which  fell,  red  and  heavy, 
on  Golgotha. 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


369 


A  barbarous  king  of  barbarians  pronounced  the  most  vig¬ 
orous  words  ever  spoken  by  Christian  lips  about  that  blood. 
They  were  reading  to  Clovis  the  story  of  the  Passion,  and  the 
fierce  King  was  sighing  and  weeping  when  suddenly,  no  longer 
able  to  contain  himself,  clapping  his  hand  to  the  hilt  of  his 
sword,  he  cried  out,  “Oh,  that  I  had  been  there  with  my 
Franks!’^  Ingenuous  words,  words  of  a  soldier  and  of  a 
violent  man,  opposed  to  Christ’s  words,  spoken  to  Peter  among 
the  olives,  but  words  beautiful  with  all  the  naive  beauty  of 
a  candid  and  virile  love.  For  it  is  not  enough  to  weep  over 
Christ  v/ho  gave  more  than  tears;  we  must  fight,  fight  in  us 
everything  that  divides  us  from  Christ,  fight  in  our  midst  all 
of  Christ’s  enemies. 

For,  although  millions  of  men  have  since  wept  when  think¬ 
ing  of  that  day,  on  that  Friday  around  the  cross,  all  except  the 
women  were  laughing,  and  those  men  who  laughed  have  left 
sons  and  grandsons,  many  of  them  baptized,  and  they  stiU 
laugh  and  their  descendants  will  continue  to  laugh  until  the 
day  when  One  alone  will  be  able  to  laugh.  If  weeping  cannot 
cancel  that  blood,  what  punishment  can  ever  expiate  that  awful 
laughter? 

Look  at  them  therefore  once  more,  those  who  are  laughing 
about  the  cross  where  Jesus  hangs  pierced  by  the  most  agoniz¬ 
ing  pain.  There  they  are,  clustered  on  the  slopes  of  Golgotha, 
dehumanized  by  hate!  Look  at  them  well,  look  them  in  the 
face,  one  by  one;  you  will  recognize  them  all,  for  they  are 
immortal. 

See  how  they  thrust  out  their  twitching  muzzles,  their 
scrawny  necks,  their  noses  humped  and  hooked,  their  rapacious 
eyes,  gleaming  under  their  bristling  eyebrows.  See  how  hid¬ 
eous  they  are,  branded  with  the  mark  of  Cain.  Count  them 
over  well,  for  they  are  all  there,  just  like  the  men  whom 
we  now  know,  brothers  of  the  men  whom  we  meet  every  day 
in  our  streets.  Not  one  is  missing. 

In  the  front  row  there  are  the  priests,  with  crammed 
paunches,  with  arid  hearts,  with  great  hairy  ears,  with  thick- 
lipped,  gaping  mouths,  craters  of  blasphemy.  And  elbow  to 
elbow  with  them,  the  arrogant  Scribes,  blear-eyed  and  scrofu- 


370 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


lous,  their  faces  of  an  excremental  yellow,  piecers-together  of 
lies,  belching  out  pus  and  ink.  And  the  Epulones,  thrusting 
out  before  them  the  obscene  heaviness  of  their  stuffed  bellies, 
brutes  who  trade  on  hunger,  who  fatten  on  famines,  who  con¬ 
vert  into  money  the  patience  of  the  poor,  the  beauty  of  virgins, 
the  sweat  of  slaves.  And  the  money-changers,  expert  in  illicit 
traffic  and  in  oppression,  who  live  to  wrest  unlawfully  from 
others;  and  the  knotty  lawyers  skillful  at  turning  the  law 
against  the  innocent.  And  behind  these  high  pillars  of  society, 
there  is  the  mob  of  cheating  scullions,  of  overbearing  rascals, 
of  foul-mouthed  rogues,  of  whining  beggars,  of  filthy  knaves, 
the  lower  dregs  of  the  population,  famished  hounds  who  eat 
under  the  tables  and  snarl  between  the  legs  of  whoever  does 
not  give  them  either  a  mouthful  or  a  kick. 

They  are  the  eternal  enemies  of  Christ — they  who  celebrated 
on  that  day  their  infamous  Saturnalia;  and  they  have  vomited 
out  on  Christ’s  face  their  poisonous  saliva,  the  muddy  lees  of 
their  souls.  This  miry  dross  of  humanity,  foul  and  polluted, 
vomited  out  from  their  filthy  hearts  their  hatred  for  Him  who 
was  saving  them;  they  howled  against  Him  who  was  forgiving 
them;  they  insulted  Christ  who  was  agonizing  for  them,  Christ 
who  was  dying  for  them.  The  antithesis  of  good  and  evil, 
innocence  and  infamy,  light  and  darkness,  was  never  presented 
with  such  a  dramatic  and  utter  contrast  as  on  that  irreparable 
day. 

Nature  itself  seemed  to  wish  to  hide  the  horror  of  that  sight: 
the  sky,  which  all  the  morning  had  been  clear,  suddenly  grew 
dark.  A  thick  cloud,  dark  as  though  it  came  from  the  marshes 
of  hell,  rose  above  the  hills  and  little  by  little  spread  to  every 
corner  of  the  horizon.  Black  clouds  gathered  about  the  sun, 
that  sweet,  clear  April  sun,  which  had  warmed  the  hands  of 
the  murderers,  encircled  it,  laid  siege  to  it,  and  finally  covered 
it  with  a  thick  curtain  of  darkness  .  .  .  “and  there  was  a 
darkness  over  all  the  earth  until  the  ninth  hour.” 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


371 


LAMA  SABACHTHANI 

Many,  alarmed  by  the  falling  of  that  mysterious  darkness, 
fled  away  from  the  Hill  of  the  Skull,  and  went  home,  silenced. 
But  not  all;  the  air  was  calm;  no  rain  fell  as  yet,  and  in  the 
obscurity,  the  three  pallid  bodies  shone  out  whitely;  many 
of  the  spectators  wished  to  sate  themselves  to  the  very  last 
on  His  agony;  why  go  away  from  the  theater  until  the  tragedy 
is  finished  to  the  last  scream? 

And  those  who  remained  listened  in  the  darkness  to  hear  if 
the  hated  protagonist  would  break  by  some  word  His  groan¬ 
ing  death-rattle.  Christ’s  sufferings  constantly  became  more 
intolerable.  His  body,  sensitive  and  delicate  by  nature,  ex¬ 
hausted  by  the  tension  of  these  last  days,  convulsed  by  the 
struggle  of  the  last  night,  worn  out  by  the  tortures  of  the 
last  hours,  could  endure  no  more.  And  His  spirit  suffered 
even  more  than  the  tortured  body  which  still  for  a  short  time 
was  its  prison.  It  seemed  to  Him  that  His  divinely  youthful 
soul  had  become  suddenly  aged,  and  that  He  was  old  beyond 
memory.  Everything  seemed  far-distant  from  Him,  the  com¬ 
panions  of  His  happy  days,  the  confidants  of  His  tenderness, 
the  poor  v\^ho  looked  lovingly  at  Him,  the  children  whose  heads 
Fie  had  caressed,  the  healed  men  and  women  who  could  not 
bring  themselves  to  leave  Him,  His  Disciples  for  whom  He 
had  created  a  new  soul — they  were  all  far  away.  Close  to 
Him  there  were  only  a  gang  of  cannibals,  possessed  by  the 
devil,  eager  for  Him  to  die. 

Only  the  women  had  not  deserted  Him.  On  one  side  at 
some  distance  from  the  cross,  through  fear  of  the  howling  men, 
Mary,  His  mother,  Mary  Magdalene,  Mary  of  Cleofa,  Salome, 
mother  of  James  and  John — and  perhaps  also  Joanna  of  Cusa, 
and  Martha — were  present,  terrified  witnesses  of  His  death. 
He  still  had  the  strength  to  confide  to  John,  the  dearest  and 
most  sacred  inheritance  which  He  left  on  earth — the  Virgin 
of  Sorrows.  But  after  this,  through  the  veil  of  His  suffering. 
He  saw  no  one  and  believed  Himself  alone  with  death,  as 
He  had  ever  been  alone  at  the  most  solemn  moments  of  His 
life.  Even  the  Father  seemed  suddenly  remote,  inexplicably 


372 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


absent.  Where  was  that  loving  Father  to  whom  He  was  wont 
to  speak,  sure  that  He  would  be  answered,  would  be  helped? 
Why  did  the  Father  not  help  Him,  give  some  sign  of  His  pres¬ 
ence,  or  at  least  show  Jesus  the  mercy  of  calling  Him  to  God 
without  cruel  delay? 

And  then  there  was  heard  in  the  thick  air,  in  the  silence 
of  the  darkness,  these  words,  “Eli,  Eli,  Lama  Sabachthani?” 
that  is  to  say:  “My  God,  my  God,  why  hast  thou  forsaken 
me?” 

This  was  the  first  verse  of  a  psalm  which  He  had  repeated 
to  Himself  many  times  because  He  had  found  there  so  many 
presages  of  His  life  and  of  His  death.  He  no  longer  had  the 
strength  to  cry  it  all  aloud  as  He  had  in  the  desert,  but  now 
into  His  troubled  spirit  those  sorrowing  invocations  came  back 
one  by  one,  “My  God,  my  God,  why  hast  thou  forsaken  me? 
why  art  thou  so  far  from  helping  me,  and  from  the  words  of 
my  roaring?  .  .  .  Our  fathers  trusted  in  thee:  they  trusted 
and  thou  didst  deliver  them.  They  cried  unto  thee,  and  were 
delivered:  .  .  .  but  I  am  a  worm,  and  no  man;-  a  reproach  of 
men,  and  despised  of  the  people.  All  that  see  me  laugh  me 
to  scorn:  they  shoot  out  the  lip,  they  shake  the  head,  saying, 
He  trusted  on  the  Lord  that  he  would  deliver  him:  let  him 
deliver  him,  seeing  he  delighted  in  him.  But  thou  art  he  that 
took  me  out  of  the  womb:  thou  didst  make  me  hope  when  I 
was  upon  my  mother’s  breasts.  Be  not  far  from  me:  for  trou¬ 
ble  is  near;  for  there  is  none  to  help.  Many  bulls  have  com¬ 
passed  me:  ...  they  gaped  upon  me  with  their  mouths,  as 
a  ravening  and  a  roaring  lion.  I  am  poured  out  like  water, 
and  all  my  bones  are  out  of  joint:  my  heart  is  like  wax;  it  is 
melted  in  the  midst  of  my  bowels.  My  strength  is  dried  up 
like  a  potsherd:  and  my  tongue  cleaveth  to  my  jaws;  and  thou 
hast  brought  me  into  the  dust  of  death.  For  dogs  have  com¬ 
passed  me:  the  assembly  of  the  wicked  have  enclosed  me:  they 
pierced  my  hands  and  my  feet  .  .  .  they  look  and  stare  upon 
me.  They  part  my  garments  among  them,  and  cast  lots  upon 
my  vesture.  But  be  thou  not  far  from  me,  O  Lord:  O  my 
strength,  haste  thee  to  help  me.” 

The  supplications  of  this  prophetic  psalm,  which  recall  so 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


373 


closely  the  Man  of  Sorrows  of  Isaiah,  rose  from  the  wounded 
heart  of  the  crucified  Man  as  the  last  expression  of  His  dying 
humanity.  But  certain  of  the  brutes  nearest  to  the  cross 
thought  that  He  was  calling  Elias,  the  immortal  prophet,  who 
in  the  popular  imagination  was  to  appear  with  Christ.  ‘^Be¬ 
hold,  He  calleth  Elias.’’ 

One  of  the  soldiers  now  took  a  sponge,  soaked  it  in  vinegar, 
put  it  on  a  reed  and  held  it  to  the  lips  of  Christ.  But  the 
Jews  said,  ^Tet  alone;  let  us  see  whether  Elias  will  come  to 
take  him  down.” 

The  legionary,  not  wishing  to  make  trouble,  laid  down  the 
reed.  But  after  a  little — and  the  time  seemed  infinitely  long 
in  that  darkness,  in  that  suspense,  that  painful  tension — 
Christ’s  voice  came  down  as  if  from  a  great  distance,  “I 
thirst.” 

The  soldier  took  up  the  sponge  again,  dipped  it  once  more 
in  the  vessel  full  of  the  mixture  of  water  and  vinegar  and 
once  more  held  it  to  the  parched  mouth  which  had  prayed  for 
his  forgiveness.  And  Jesus  when  He  had  taken  the  vinegar 
said,  “It  is  finished.” 

Christ,  who  had  satisfied  so  many  times  the  thirst  of  others, 
and  who  left  in  the  world  an  ever-springing  fountain  of  life, 
where  the  weary  find  strength,  the  corrupt  find  their  youth, 
and  the  restless  find  peace,  Christ  had  always  suffered  with  an 
unsatisfied  thirst  for  love.  And  even  now  in  the  terrible  burn¬ 
ing  of  His  fever.  His  thirst  was  not  for  water  but  for  a  pitying 
word  which  would  break  the  oppression  of  His  desolate  soli¬ 
tude.'  Instead  of  the  pure  water  of  the  Galilean  brooks,  instead 
of  the  heart-warming  wine  of  the  Last  Supper,  the  Roman  sol¬ 
dier  gave  Him  a  little  of  his  acid  drink,  but  the  prompt  and 
kindly  act  of  that  obscure  slave  quenched  His  thirst,  because, 
although  reeling  in  the  darkness  of  death.  He  felt  that  a  human 
heart  had  pitied  His  heart. 

If  a  stranger  who  had  never  seen  Him  before  that  day  had 
done  this,  although  so  small  a  thing,  through  compassion  for 
Him,  it  was  a  sign  that  the  Father  had  not  abandoned  Him. 
The  cup  was  finished:  all  the  bitterness  was  drunk.  Eternity 
began.  With  His  last  strength  He  cried  with  a  loud  voice 


374  LIFE  OF  CHRIST 

in  the  darkness:  “Father,  into  thy  hands  I  commend  my 
spirit!” 

I  called  Thee  because  it  seemed  to  me  in  the  darkness  of  my 
suffering  that  Thou  hadst  left  me.  But  now  Thou  hast  an¬ 
swered.  Thou  hast  answered  by  means  of  this  poor  soldier; 
Thou  hast  answered  with  the  peace  which  dulls  the  last  pangs 
of  my  death,  the  death  which  brings  me  to  my  awakening  with 
Thee.  It  is  not  true  that  Thou  hadst  abandoned  me.  When 
I  called  Thee  it  was  not  I  who  spoke  but  that  human  blood 
burning  in  my  veins,  and  dropping  from  the  nails.  I  know 
that  Thou  art  present  with  me,  one  with  me  to  all  eternity: 
Thou  art  my  Father  and  I  Thy  Son.  Into  what  dearer  and 
surer  hands  could  I  commend  my  soul? 

And  Jesus,  after  he  had  cried  out  with  a  loud  voice,  bowed 
His  head  and  gave  up  the  spirit.  That  loud  cry,  so  powerful 
that  it  freed  the  soul  from  the  flesh,  rang  out  of  the  darkness 
and  lost  itself  in  the  furthermost  ends  of  the  earth.  Matthew 
tells  us  that  “the  veil  of  the  temple  was  rent  in  twain  from 
the  top  to  the  bottom;  and  the  earth  did  quake^  and  the  rocks 
rent;  And  the  graves  were  opened,  and  many  bodies  of  the 
saints  which  slept  arose,  and  appeared  unto  many.”  But  the 
hearts  of  the  spectators  were  harder  than  rocks;  none  of  those 
dead  souls  who  wore  the  outward  aspect  of  life  were  reanimated 
at  that  supreme  summons. 

Nineteen  hundred  years  have  passed  from  the  day  when 
the  earth  echoed  to  that  cry,  and  men  have  intensified  the 
tumult  of  their  lives  that  they  may  drown  it  out.  But  in  the 
fog  and  smoke  of  our  cities,  in  the  darkness,  ever  more  pro¬ 
found  where  men  light  the  fires  of  their  wretchedness,  that  de¬ 
spairing  cry  of  joy  and  of  liberation,  that  prodigious  cry  which 
eternally  summons  every  one  of  us,  still  rings  in  the  heart  of 
every  man  who  has  not  forced  himself  to  forget. 

Christ  was  dead.  He  had  died  on  the  cross  in  the  manner 
which  men  had  willed,  which  the  Son  had  chosen,  to  which  the 
Father  had  consented.  The  death-struggle  was  over  and  the 
Jews  were  satisfied.  He  had  expiated  all  up  to  the  last,  and 
now  He  was  dead.  Now  our  own  expiation  begins — and  it  is 
not  yet  finished. 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


375 


WATER  AND  BLOOD 

Christ  was  dead,  as  the  leaders  of  His  people  had  wished, 
but  not  even  His  last  cry  had  awakened  them.  Some  of  them, 
says  Luke,  went  away  smiting  their  breasts;  but  were  there 
within  those  breasts  hearts  which  truly  felt  for  the  great  heart 
which  had  stopped  beating?  They  did  not  speak,  they  hurried 
home  to  their  supper, — perhaps  it  was  more  terror  than  love 
which  they  were  feeling. 

But  a  foreigner,  the  Centurion,  Petronius,  who  had  been  the 
silent  witness  of  the  execution,  was  moved,  and  from  his  pagan 
mouth  came  the  words  of  Claudia  Procula,  “Certainly  this  was 
a  righteous  man.’^ 

He  did  not  even  know  the  true  name  of  the  man  who  was 
dead,  but  he  was  sure  at  least  that  He  was  no  evildoer.  He 
was  the  third  Roman  witness  in  favor  of  the  innocence  of 
Christ,  who  was  to  become,  through  the  Apostles,  eternally 
Roman. 

The  Jews  had  no  thought  of  recantations.  What  was  in 
their  minds  was  the  thought  that  the  Passover  would  be  spoiled 
if  the  bloody  corpses  were  not  carried  away  at  once.  Evening 
was  close  at  hand  and  with  the  setting  of  the  sun  the  great 
Sabbath  began.  Therefore  they  sent  word  to  Pilate  to  have 
the  condemned  men’s  legs  broken  at  once  and  to  have  them 
buried.  The  breaking  of  the  legs  was  one  of  the  cruel  dis¬ 
coveries  of  cruelty  to  shorten  the  sufferings  of  crucified  men, — 
a  sort  of  grace  useful  in  cases  of  haste.  The  soldiers,  when 
they  had  received  the  order,  came  up  to  the  bad  thief,  who, 
more  robust  than  his  companions,  was  still  alive,  and  they 
broke  his  legs  with  a  club. 

They  had  seen  Jesus  die,  and  they  could  save  themselves 
the  trouble  of  using  the  club,  but  John  says  that  one  of  them, 
to  make  quite  sure,  pierced  His  side  with  a  spear,  and 
saw  with  astonishment  that  water  and  blood  came  out  from 
the  wound.  The  name  of  this  soldier  according  to  an  old 
tradition  was  Longinus,  and  it  is  said  that  some  drops  of  that 
blood  fell  upon  his  eyes  which  had  been  infected,  and  imme¬ 
diately  cured  them.  The  history  of  martyrs  tells  of  him  that 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


376 

Longinus  believed  in  Christ  from  that  day  on,  and  was  a 
monk  for  twenty-eight  years  at  Caesarea  until  he  was  mur¬ 
dered  because  of  his  faith.  Claudia  Procula,  the  pious  legion¬ 
ary,  who  for  the  last  time  wet  the  lips  of  the  dying  man,  the 
Centurion,  Petronius,  and  Longinus  were  the  first  Gentiles  who 
accepted  Jesus  on  the  very  day  when  Jerusalem  had  cast  Him 
out. 

But  not  all  the  Jews  had  forgotten  Him.  Now  that  He  was 
dead,  really  dead,  now  that  He  was  cold  like  all  dead  men, 
and  motionless  like  any  other  corpse,  now  that  He  was  a  silent, 
harmless,  quiet  corpse,  a  body  with  no  soul,  a  silent  mouth,  a 
heart  which  beat  no  more,  see  how  they  come  out  from  the 
houses  where  they  had  shut  themselves  in,  the  friends  of  the 
twenty-fifth  hour,  the  tepid  followers,  the  secret  disciples,  the 
anonymous  admirers,  who  at  night  hide  their  light  under  a 
bushel,  and  when  the  sun  shines,  disappear.  We  have  all  known 
friends  like  these,  cautious  souls,  trembling  at  the  idea  of 
what  people  will  say,  who  follow  you  but  from  afar;  receive 
you — but  when  no  one  can  see  you  together;  esteem  you — ^but 
do  not  so  much  as  admit  this  esteem  to  others;  love  you — ^but 
not  so  much  as  to  lose  a  single  hour  of  sleep  or  a  single  miser¬ 
able  penny  to  help  you  I  But  when  death  comes,  even  when 
it  comes  through  the  fault  or  the  avarice,  or  the  cowardice  of 
such  despicable  men,  then  their  celebration  begins.  They  are 
the  ones  who  weep  more  tears  and  more  glittering  tears  than 
any  one  else.  They  are  the  ones  who  weave  together  with 
busy  hands  the  flowers  of  the  wreaths  and  the  flowers  of 
funereal  rhetoric;  and  with  enthusiasm  and  ardor  become 
necrologists,  epitaph  writers,  and  memorialists.  To  see  them 
you  would  think  that  the  deceased  had  had  no  more  faithful, 
no  more  loving  companions  than  they,  and  good-hearted  people 
are  moved  to  compassion  for  those  unfortunate  survivors  who 
seem  to  have  lost  a  half,  or  at  the  very  least,  a  quarter  of 
their  souls. 

To  His  sorrow  in  life  and  in  death  Christ  had  many  friends 
of  this  sort,  and  two  of  them  stepped  forward  in  that  Good 
Friday  twilight.  They  were  two  serious  and  worthy  citizens, 
two  notables  of  Jerusalem  and  of  the  Council,  two  rich  lords. 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


377 

in  short  two  members  of  the  Sanhedrin;  Joseph  of  Arimathea 
and  Nicodemus. 

In  order  not  to  stain  their  hands  with  the  blood  of  Jesus, 
they  had  kept  away  from  the  meeting  of  the  Sanhedrin  and 
had  hidden  themselves  in  their  houses,  heaving  regretful  sighs, 
perhaps,  and  thinking  that  they  could  thus  save  their  reputation 
and  their  conscience.  But  they  did  not  reflect  that  even  pas¬ 
sive  complicity  was  active  help  to  the  assassins,  and  that  to 
abstain  from  opposition,  not  even  to  voice  their  opposition, 
was  equivalent  to  consenting.  Joseph  of  Arimathea  and  Nico¬ 
demus  had  therefore  taken  part  in  the  murder  of  Christ,  al¬ 
though  they  had  been  absent  and  invisible,  and  their  post¬ 
humous  grief  can  diminish  but  by  no  means  cancel  their  re¬ 
sponsibility. 

But  in  the  evening  when  they  ran  no  risk  of  offending  their 
colleagues,  when  the  Elders  had  received  full  satisfaction  and 
had  left  Golgotha,  when  there  was  no  danger  of  compromising 
themselves  in  the  eyes  of  high  clerical  and  middle-class  society, 
since  the  dead  man  was  dead  and  could  harm  no  one,  the  two 
nocturnal  disciples,  hidden,  “for  fear  of  the  Jews,’^  thought 
that  they  would  diminish  their  remorse  by  providing  for  the 
burial  of  the  executed  man. 

The  bolder  of  the  two,  Joseph,  “.  .  .  went  in  boldly  unto 
Pilate”  (Mark  noted  the  fact  as  remarkable  for  that  toga-clad 
rabbit)  and  asked  for  the  body  of  Jesus.  Pilate  was  aston¬ 
ished  that  He  should  already  be  dead,  since  crucified  men  often 
lived,  for  two  days — and  called  in  Petronius,  who  had  been 
charged  with  the  execution.  After  Pilate  had  heard  his  report, 
he  “gave”  the  body  to  the  Sanhedrist.  The  Procurator  was 
generous  on  that  day  because  as  a  rule  the  Roman  officers 
forced  the  families  of  condemned  men  to  pay  for  the  corpses. 
He  could  not  say  no  to  a  person  so  respectable,  and  rich  into 
the  bargain.  Possibly,  too,  this  free  gift  came  as  much  from 
weariness  as  from  generosity.  They  had  annoyed  him  all  the 
morning  with  that  troublesome  King,  and  now  he  had  no  peace 
even  when  He  was  dead  ! 

When  Joseph  had  received  permission  he  took  a  fine  white 
winding-sheet  and  linen  bands,  and  went  towards  the  Hill  of 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


378 

the  Skull.  There,  or  on  the  way  there,  he  met  Nicodemus, 
who,  having  the  same  character,  may  have  been  his  friend,  and 
who  had  come  with  the  same  thought.  Nicodemus  also  had 
not  spared  expense,  and  had  brought  with  him  on  the  shoulders 
of  a  servant  a  hundred  pounds  of  a  mixture  of  myrrh  and  aloes. 

And  when  they  came  to  the  cross,  while  the  soldiers  were 
taking  down  the  two  thieves  to  throw  them  into  the  common 
grave  of  condemned  men,  they  prepared  themselves  to  take 
down  the  body  of  Jesus. 

PERFUMES  IN  THE  ROCK 

What  little  light  had  penetrated  the  dark  cloud  disappeared 
with  the  setting  of  the  sun.  The  darkness  was  thick  and 
sinister.  A  black  night  was  shutting  down  on  the  world  which 
on  that  day  had  lost  the  only  Being  which  could  give  it  light. 
Against  the  scarcely  visible  whiteness  of  the  Hill  of  the  Skull, 
the  naked  corpses  glimmered  dimly.  They  were  obliged  to 
work  by  the  red  light  of  torches,  flaming  without  smoke  in 
that  windless  air,  and  by  that  blood-red  light  they  could  see 
clearly,  even  to  the  long  streaks  of  blood  which  had  run  down 
the  foot  of  the  cross,  to  the  newly  stirred  earth. 

Joseph,  aided  by  Nicodemus  and  by  a  third  helper,  was 
scarcely  able  to  draw  out  the  deep-driven  nails  which  held  the 
feet.  The  ladder  was  still  there.  One  of  them,  climbing  up 
on  it,  took  out  the  nails  from  the  hands,  supporting  the  loosened 
body  with  his  shoulder.  The  others  helped  him  to  lower  down 
the  corpse,  and  the  body  was  placed  on  the  knees  of  the  Virgin 
of  Sorrows  who  had  borne  Him.  Then  they  all  made  their 
way  towards  a  garden  near  by  where  there  was  a  sepulcher 
destined  for  Jesus.  The  garden  belonged  to  the  rich  Joseph, 
who  had  had  the  sepulcher  hewn  out  of  the  stone  for  himself 
and  his  family,  for  in  those  days  every  well-to-do  Jew  had 
a  family  sepulcher  far  from  all  the  others,  and  the  dead  were 
not  condemned  to  the  promiscuity  of  our  administrative  ceme¬ 
teries;  temporary,  geometric,  and  democratic  like  all  our  mod¬ 
ern  magnificent  barbarisms. 

As  soon  as  they  had  arrived  at  the  garden,  the  two  bearers 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


379 


of  the  dead  had  water  brought  from  the  well,  and  washed  the 
body.  Until  then  the  women,  the  three  Marys — the  Virgin 
Mary,  the  contemplative  Mary,  the  liberated  Mary — ^had  not 
moved  from  the  place  where  He  whom  they  loved  had  died. 
Now,  defter  and  more  skillful  than  men,  they  began  to  help 
in  order  that  this  burial,  performed  thus  at  night  and  in  haste, 
would  not  be  unworthy  of  Him  for  whom  they  wept.  They 
lifted  from  His  head  the  insulting  crown  of  Pilate’s  legionaries, 
and  plucked  out  the  thorns  which  had  penetrated  the  skin: 
they  were  the  ones  to  smooth  and  arrange  the  hair  clotted  with 
blood;  and  to  close  the  eyes  into  which  they  had  looked  so 
many  times  with  pure  tenderness,  and  that  mouth  which  they 
had  never  kissed.  Many  loving  tears  fell  upon  that  face  where 
in  the  calm  paleness  of  death  the  old  sweetness  shone  once 
more,  and  their  tears  washed  it  vdth  water  purer  than  that 
from  Joseph’s  well. 

All  His  body  was  sullied  with  sweat,  with  dust,  with  blood; 
bloody  serum  oozed  out  from  the  wounds  of  the  hands,  of  the 
feet,  of  the  chest.  When  the  washing  was  finished,  the  corpse 
was  sprinkled  with  Nicodemus’  spices,  and  that  without  spar¬ 
ing,  for  they  were  abundant;  even  the  black  wounds  left  by 
the  nails  were  filled  with  spices.  The  body  of  Jesus  had  re¬ 
ceived  nothing  but  insults  and  blows  after  the  evening  when 
the  sinning  woman  with  a  premonition  of  this  day  had  poured 
nard  upon  the  feet  and  upon  the  head  of  the  Pardoner.  But 
now,  as  then,  the  murdered  white  body  was  covered  with  per¬ 
fumes  and  with  tears  sweeter  than  perfumes. 

Then,  when  the  hundred  pounds  of  Nicodemus  had  covered 
Jesus  with  a  fragrant  pall,  the  winding  sheet  was  tied  about 
the  body  with  long  linen  bands,  the  head  was  wrapped  in  a 
napkin  and  another  white  cloth  was  spread  over  the  face,  after 
they  had  all  kissed  Him  on  the  forehead. 

There  was  space  but  for  one  body  in  the  open  sepulcher. 
Recently  made,  it  had  never  been  used.  Joseph  of  Arimathea, 
not  able  to  save  Christ  alive  in  any  of  his  houses,  now  that 
the  fury  of  the  world  had  died  down,  gave  up  to  Him  the 
dark  subterranean  habitation  hewn  in  the  rock,  and  intended 
for  his  own  dead  body.  According  to  the  ritual  the  two  San- 


38o 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


hedrists  recited  aloud  the  mortuary  psalm,  and  finally,  after 
they  had  placed  the  white-wrapped  body  in  the  cave,  they 
closed  the  opening  with  a  great  stone  and  went  away  silently, 
followed  by  the  others. 

But  the  women  did  not  follow  them.  They  could  not  bring 
themselves  to  leave  that  rock  which  separated  them  forever 
from  Him  whom  they  loved  more  than  their  beauty.  How 
could  they  leave  Him  alone  in  the  darkness,  doubly  black, 
of  the  night  and  of  the  tomb.  He  who  had  been  so  desperately 
alone  in  His  long  death  agony?  They  whispered  prayers,  and 
recalled  to  each  other  the  memory  of  a  day,  or  a  gesture,  or 
a  word  of  the  loved  one,  and  if  one  of  them  tried  to  comfort 
another,  the  second  but  sobbed  more  bitterly.  Sometimes  they 
called  Him  by  name  as  they  leaned  against  the  rock,  and  spoke 
lovingly  to  Him  now  that  His  ears  were  closed  in  death,  as 
they  had  not  dared  while  He  was  alive.  They  poured  out,  at 
last  in  the  damp  black  shade  of  the  garden,  that  love  greater 
than  love,  which  their  poor,  limited  human  hearts  could  no 
longer  hold  back. 

Then  finally,  chilled  and  terrified  by  the  night’s  blackness, 
they  too  went  away,  their  eyes  burning,  stumbling  amid  the 
bushes  and  the  stones,  promising  one  another  to  return  there 
as  soon  as  the  feast-day  had  passed. 

HE  IS  NOT  HERE 

The  sun  had  not  yet  risen  on  the  day  which  for  us  is  Sunday, 
when  the  women  once  more  drew  near  to  the  garden  ;  but  over 
the  eastern  hills  a  white  hope,  light  as  the  distant  reflection 
of  an  earth  clothed  with  lilies  and  silver,  rose  slowly  in  the 
midst  of  the  throbbing  constellations,  vanquishing  little  by 
little  the  sparkling  brilliance  of  the  night.  It  was  one  of  those 
calm  dawns,  suggesting  innocents  asleep,  and  the  clear  benign 
air  seemed  stirred  as  by  a  recent  stir  of  angels’  wings.  It 
seemed  one  of  the  virginal  days,  ushered  in  with  transparent 
pallor,  shy  and  cheerful  with  cool  breezes. 

In  the  half  light,  the  women  advanced,  breathed  upon  by 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


381 


wandering  airs,  lost  in  their  sadness,  under  the  spell  of  an 
emotion  they  could  not  have  explained.  Were  they  returning 
to  weep  upon  the  rock?  Or  to  see  Him  once  more,  He  who 
had  captured  their  hearts  without  laying  them  waste?  Or  to’ 
put  about  the  body  of  the  Immaculate  One  spices  stronger 
than  those  of  Nicodemus?  And  speaking  among  themselves, 
they  said,  ^Who  shall  roll  us  away  the  stone  from  the  door  of 
the  sepulchre?” 

There  were  four  of  them,  since  Joanna  of  Cusa  and  Salome 
had  joined  Mary  of  Magdala  and  Mary  of  Bethany,  but  they 
were  women  and  weakened  by  their  sorrow. 

But  when  they  came  to  the  rock  they  stood  still,  astounded. 
The  opening  into  the  sepulcher  showed  black  against  the  dark¬ 
ness.  Not  believing  her  eyes,  the  boldest  of  them  touched  the 
sill  with  her  trembling  hands.  In  the  daylight,  brightening 
now  with  every  moment,  they  saw  the  stone  there  beside  them, 
leaning  against  the  rocks. 

The  women,  struck  into  silence  by  their  fright,  turned  around 
as  if  expecting  some  one  to  come  to  tell  them  what  had  hap¬ 
pened  in  those  two  nights  which  had  passed.  Mary  of  Magdala 
feared  at  once  that  the  Jews,  not  satisfied  with  what  they  had 
made  Him  suffer  when  He  was  alive,  had  stolen  away  the  body 
of  Christ;  or  perhaps,  unwilling  to  have  the  honorable  sep¬ 
ulcher  used  by  a  heretic,  they  had  thrown  Him  into  the  shame¬ 
ful  common  grave  used  for  men  stoned  and  crucified. 

But  this  was  no  more  than  a  presentiment.  Perhaps  Jesus 
was  still  lying  inside  in  His  perfumed  wrappings.  Enter  they 
dared  not,  yet  they  could  not  bear  to  go  away,  not  knowing 
what  had  happened.  As  soon  as  the  sun,  risen  at  last  above 
the  summit  of  the  hills,  shone  into  the  opening  of  the  sepulcher, 
they  took  courage  and  entered. 

At  first  they  saw  nothing,  but  they  were  shaken  by  a  new 
fear.  At  their  right,  seated,  was  a  young  man  clothed  in  a  long 
white  garment,  showing  in  that  darkness  like  snow.  He  seemed 
to  be  awaiting  them. 

“Be  not  affrighted:  he  is  not  here:  for  he  is  risen.  Why 
seek  ye  the  living  among  the  dead?  Remember  how  he  spake 


382 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


unto  you  when  he  was  yet  in  Galilee,  Saying,  The  Son  of  man 
must  be  delivered  into  the  hands  of  sinful  men,  and  be  cruci¬ 
fied,  and  the  third  day  rise  again.’’ 

The  women  listened,  terrified  and  trembling,  not  able  to  an¬ 
swer,  but  the  youth  went  on,  “Go  quickly,  and  tell  his  disciples 
that  he  is  risen  from  the  dead;  and,  behold,  he  goeth  before 
you  into  Galilee;  there  shall  ye  see  him.” 

All  four  of  them,  quivering  with  terror  and  joy,  left  the  grotto 
to  hasten  where  they  had  been  sent.  But  after  a  few  steps, 
when  they  were  almost  outside  the  garden,  Mary  of  Magdala 
stopped,  and  the  others  went  along  the  road  towards  the  city 
without  waiting  for  her.  She  herself  did  not  know  why  she 
had  remained  behind.  Perhaps  the  words  of  the  unknown 
youth  had  not  convinced  her,  and  she  remembered  that  they 
had  not  even  made  sure  that  the  sepulcher  ,was  really  empty; 
perhaps  the  youth  in  white  was  an  accomplice  of  the  priests 
who  wished  to  deceive  them? 

Suddenly  she  turned  and  saw  a  man  near  her,  outlined 
against  the  green  of  the  garden,  and  the  sunlight;  but  she 
did  not  recognize  Him  even  when  He  spoke.  “Woman,  why 
weepest  thou?  whom  seekest  thou?” 

Mary  thought  that  it  might  be  Joseph’s  gardener  come  early 
to  his  work.  “Because  they  have  taken  away  my  Lord,  and 
I  know  not  where  they  have  laid  him.  Sir,  if  thou  have  borne 
him  hence,  tell  me  where  thou  hast  laid  him,  and  I  will  take 
him  away.” 

The  unknown  man,  touched  by  this  impassioned  candor,  by 
this  child-like  simplicity,  answered  only  one  word,  spoke  only 
one  name,  her  name,  pronounced  longingly,  wistfully  in  the 
touching  and  unforgettable  voice  which  had  called  her  so  many 
times:  “Mary!” 

At  this,  as  if  awakened  with  a  start  the  despairing  woman 
found  her  lost  Master:  “Rabboni,  Master!”  And  she  fell  at 
His  feet  in  the  dewy  grass  and  clasped  in  her  hands  those 
bare  feet  still  showing  the  two  red  marks  of  the  nails. 

But  Jesus  said  to  her,  “Touch  me  not;  for  I  am  not  yet 
ascended  to  my  Father:  but  go  to  my  brethren,  and  say  unto 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST  383 

them,  I  ascend  unto  my  Father,  and  your  Father;  and  to  my 
God,  and  to  your  God.” 

And  at  once.  He  withdrew  from  the  kneeling  woman,  and 
moved  away  among  the  plants,  crowned  with  sunshine. 

Mary  watched  Him  until  He  had  disappeared;  then  she 
lifted  herself  up  from  the  grass,  her  face  convulsed,  wild,  blind 
with  joy,  and  ran  after  her  companions. 

They  had  but  just  come  to  the  house  where  the  Disciples 
were  in  hiding  and  they  had  told  hastily  and  breathlessly  the 
incredible  news  :  the  sepulcher  opened,  the  youth  clad  in  white, 
the  things  which  he  had  said,  the  Master  risen,  the  message  to 
His  brothers. 

But  the  men,  still  stunned  by  the  catastrophe,  and  who  in 
these  dangerous  days  had  shown  themselves  more  torpid  and 
passive  than  the  weaker  women,  were  not  willing  to  believe  this 
wildly  improbable  news.  Hallucinations,  women^s  dreams, 
they  said.  How  could  He  be  risen  from  the  dead  after  only 
two  days?  He  had  said  that  He  would  return,  but  not  at  once: 
so  many  terrible  things  were  to  be  seen  before  that  day  of 
His  return! 

They  believed  in  the  resurrection  of  the  Master,  but  not 
before  the  day  when  all  the  dead  would  rise  again,  and  He 
would  come  in  glory  to  rule  His  kingdom.  But  not  now:  it 
was  too  soon,  it  could  not  be  true:  waking  dreams  of  hysteric 
women  ! 

But  in  the  meantime,  Mary  of  Magdala  rushed  in,  breathless 
with  haste  and  agitation.  What  the  others  had  said  was  all 
true.  But  there  was  more:  she  herself  had  seen  Him  with 
her  own  eyes,  and  He  had  spoken  to  her,  and  she  had  not 
known  Him  at  once,  but  had  recognized  Him  as  soon  as  He 
had  called  her  by  name:  she  had  touched  His  feet  with  her 
hands,  had  seen  the  wounds  on  His  feet;  it  v/as  He,  alive  once 
more;  and  He  had  told  her,  as  had  the  unknown  youth,  to 
go  to  His  brethren,  so  that  they  should  know  that  He  had  risen 
from  the  dead  as  He  had  promised. 

Simon  and  John,  finally  aroused,  rushed  out  of  the  house 
and  began  to  run  towards  Joseph’s  garden.  John,  who  was 


384 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


younger,  outran  Peter  and  came  first  to  the  sepulcher.  He 
looked  through  the  door,  saw  the  linen  cloths  lying  on  the 
ground,  but  did  not  go  in.  Simon  came  up  panting  and  rushed 
into  the  grotto.  The  linen  cloths  were  lying  on  the  ground, 
but  the  napkin  which  had  been  about  the  head  of  the  corpse 
was  folded  and  wrapped  together  in  a  place  by  itself.  John 
also  went  in,  saw,  and  believed.  And  without  another  word 
they  returned  in  all  haste  towards  the  house,  still  running, 
as  if  they  expected  to  find  the  Risen  One  in  the  midst  of  the 
others  whom  they  had  left. 

But  Jesus,  after  He  had  left  Mary,  withdrew  from  Jeru¬ 
salem. 


EMMAUS 

After  the  solemn  interval  of  the  Passover,  plain,  ordinary 
everyday  life  began  again  for  all  men. 

Two  friends  of  Jesus,  among  those  who  were  in  the  house 
with  the  Disciples,  were  to  go  that  morning  on  an  errand  to 
Emmaus,  a  hamlet  about  two  hours’  journey  from  Jerusalem. 
They  left  as  soon  as  Simon  and  John  had  returned  from  the 
sepulcher.  All  these  amazing  tales  had  shaken  them  some¬ 
what,  but  had  not  really  convinced  them  of  an  event  so  por¬ 
tentous  and  unexpected.  Serious-minded  men,  they  could  not 
understand  or  believe  what  they  had  heard:  if  the  body  of 
the  Master  was  no  longer  there,  might  it  not  have  been  taken 
away  by  men’s  hands? 

Cleopas  and  his  companion  were  good  Jews,  men  who  left 
a  place  for  the  ideal  in  their  minds,  burdened  with  many 
material  cares.  But  this  place  for  the  ideal  was  not  to  be  too 
large,  and  this  ideal  must  be  commensurate  with  their  own 
natures  if  it  were  not  to  be  expelled  as  an  unwelcome  guest. 
Like  almost  all  the  Disciples,  they  too  expected  the  coming 
of  a  Liberator,  but  of  one  who  would  come  to  liberate  Israel 
first  of  all, — a  Messiah,  in  short,  who  should  be  the  son  of 
David  rather  than  the  Son  of  God,  a  warrior  on  horseback 
rather  than  a  poor  pedestrian,  a  scourge  of  His  enemies  and 
not  a  lover  of  sick  people  and  children.  The  words  of  Christ 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


385 


had  almost  given  them  a  glimpse  of  higher  truths,  but  the 
crucifixion  disheartened  them.  They  loved  Jesus,  and  they 
suffered  in  His  suffering,  but  this  sudden,  shameful  ending 
without  glory  and  without  resistance  was  too  great  a  contrast 
to  what  they  had  expected,  and  especially  to  much  of  what 
they  had  hoped.  They  could  understand  that  He  might  be 
a  humble  Saviour,  riding  on  gentle  asses  instead  of  on  warlike 
chargers,  and  a  little  more  spiritual  and  gentle  than  they 
would  have  liked;  they  could  understand  this,  although  with 
difficulty,  and  endure  it  although  grudgingly.  But  that  the 
Liberator  had  not  known  how  to  free  either  Himself  or  others, 
that  the  Messiah  of  the  Jews  should  have  died  through  the  will 
;  of  so  many  Jews  on  the  scaffold  of  murderers  and  parricides, 

I  was  too  great  a  disappointment, — an  inexcusable  scandal. 

'  They  pitied  the  crucified  leader  with  all  their  hearts,  but  at 
I  the  same  time  they  were  tempted  to  believe  that  they  had 
I  been  deceived  about  His  real  nature.  His  death — and  what 
i  a  death! — looked  to  their  narrow,  practical  minds  sadly  like 
a  failure. 

They  were  reasoning  together  of  all  these  things  as  they 
went  along  under  the  warm  noonday  sun  and  at  times  the  dis¬ 
cussion  grew  hot,  for  they  did  not  always  agree.  Then  sud- 
i  denly  they  caught  a  glimpse  of  a  shadow  on  the  ground  near 
them.  They  turned  around.  The  shadow  was  that  of  a  man 
j  who  was  following  as  if  he  wished  to  hear  what  they  were 
i  saying.  They  stopped,  as  was  the  custom,  to  greet  him,  and 
.  the  traveler  joined  them.  His  did  not  seem  an  unknown  face 
I  to  the  two  men,  but  look  at  him  as  they  might,  they  could 
not  think  who  it  was.  The  newcomer,  instead  of  answering 
their  silent  questions,  asked  them,  ^What  manner  of  communi¬ 
cations  are  these  that  ye  have  one  to  another,  as  ye  walk?” 

Cleopas,  who  must  have  been  the  older,  answered  with  a 
wondering  gesture,  “Art  thou  only  a  stranger  in  Jerusalem, 
and  hast  not  known  the  things  which  are  come  to  pass  there 
in  these  days?” 

I  “What  things?”  asked  the  unknown  man. 

I  “Concerning  Jesus  of  Nazareth,  which  was  a  prophet  mighty 
in  deed  and  word  before  God  and  all  the  people:  And  how 


386 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


the  chief  priests  and  our  rulers  delivered  him  to  be  condemned 
to  death,  and  have  crucified  him.  But  we  trusted  that  it  had 
been  he  which  should  have  redeemed  Israel:  and  beside  all 
this,  to-day  is  the  third  day  since  these  things  were  done.  Yea, 
and  certain  women  also  of  our  company  made  us  astonished, 
which  were  early  at  the  sepulchre;  And  when  they  found  not 
his  body,  they  came,  saying,  that  they  had  also  seen  a  vision 
of  angels,  which  said  that  he  was  alive.  And  certain  of  them 
which  were  with  us  went  to  the  sepulchre  and  found  it  even 
so  as  the  women  had  said:  but  him  they  saw  not.” 

“O  fools,  and  slow  of  heart,”  exclaimed  the  stranger,  “to 
believe  all  that  the  prophets  have  spoken:  Ought  not  Christ 
to  have  suffered  these  things,  and  to  enter  into  his  glory?” 
Do  you  not  remember  how  He  was  predicted  from  Moses  down 
to  our  own  time?  Have  you  not  read  Ezekiel  and  Daniel? 
Do  you  not  even  know  our  songs  of  the  Lord  and  His  prom¬ 
ises? 

And  almost  indignantly  He  recited  the  old  words  and  the 
prophecies,  recalled  the  description  of  the  Man  of  Sorrows 
given  by  Isaiah.  The  two  listened,  docile  and  attentive,  with¬ 
out  answering,  because  the  newcomer  spoke  with  so  much  heat, 
and  the  old  admonitions  in  His  mouth  took  on  new  warmth 
and  a  meaning  so  clear  that  it  seemed  almost  impossible  that 
they  had  not  understood  them  before.  The  talk  of  the  new¬ 
comer  gave  them  the  impression  of  being  the  echo  of  other 
talks  like  those  heard  in  times  past,  but  confusedly,  like  a  voice 
from  the  other  side  of  a  wall. 

In  the  meantime  they  had  arrived  at  the  entrance  of  Em- 
maus,  and  the  pilgrim  made  as  though  He  would  have  gone 
further.  But  now  the  two  friends  were  not  willing  to  part 
with  their  mysterious  companion,  and  they  begged  Him  to 
stay  with  them.  The  sun  was  going  down,  throwing  a  warmer 
golden  light  on  the  countryside,  and  their  three  shadows  had 
lengthened  on  the  dusty  road. 

“Abide  with  us,”  they  said,  “for  it  is  toward  evening,  and 
the  day  is  far  spent.”  Also  thou  art  tired  and  it  is  the  hour 
for  food.  And  they  took  Him  by  the  hand  and  made  Him 
come  into  the  house  where  they  were  going. 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


387 


When  they  were  at  table,  the  guest  who  sat  between  them 
took  bread,  and  broke  it  and  gave  a  little  to  one  of  His  friends. 
At  this  action,  the  eyes  of  Cleopas  and  the  other  man  were 
opened,  as  when  we  are  suddenly  wakened  and  find  the  sun 
shining.  Both  of  them  sprang  to  their  feet,  trembling  with 
emotion,  pale,  amazed,  and  finally  knew  Him,  the  murdered 
man  whom  they  had  misunderstood  and  slandered.  But  they 
had  no  time  even  to  run  to  kiss  Him,  for  Jesus  vanished  out 
of  their  sight. 

They  had  not  recognized  Him  when  they  had  seen  Him,  not 
even  by  His  speech,  although  that  was  so  like  His  speech  in 
His  lifetime;  they  had  not  recognized  Him  even  by  the  light 
of  His  eyes  while  He  spoke,  nor  by  the  sound  of  His  voice! 
But  when  He  took  the  bread  in  His  hands,  like  a  father  who 
shares  it  with  His  children  in  the  evening  after  a  day  of  work 
or  of  travel,  in  that  loving  action  which  they  had  seen  Him 
perform  so  many  times  in  their  hastily  arranged  intimate  sup¬ 
pers,  they  had  recognized  His  hands.  His  blessed  and  wounded 
hands,  and  the  cloud  lifted  and  they  found  themselves  face 
to  face  with  the  splendor  of  Christ  risen  from  the  dead.  In 
His  first  life  when  He  was  their  friend  they  had  not  under¬ 
stood  Him;  when  on  the  road  to  Emmaus  He  had  taught  them, 
they  had  not  recognized  Him,  but  at  the  moment  when  He 
became  the  loving  Master,  serving  His  servants  and  giving 
them  bread  which  is  life  and  the  hope  of  life,  then  for  the 
first  time  they  saw  Him. 

And  tired  and  fasting  as  they  were,  they  went  back  over 
the  road  which  they  had  come,  and  after  nightfall  arrived  at 
Jerusalem. 

And  as  they  went  along  they  said  almost  shamefacedly, 
^‘Did  not  our  heart  burn  within  us,  while  he  talked  with  us  by 
the  way,  and  while  he  opened  to  us  the  scriptures?” 

The  Disciples  were  still  awake.  Without  drawing  breath 
the  newcomers  told  of  their  encounter  and  what  had  been 
said  along  the  way,  and  how  they  had  recognized  Him  only 
at  the  moment  when  He  broke  the  bread.  And  in  answer  to  this 
new  confirmation,  three  or  four  voices  cried  out  together,  ^The 
Lord  is  risen  indeed,  and  hath  appeared  to  Simon!” 


388 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


But  not  all  the  Apostles  were  convinced  even  by  these  four 
appearances,  by  the  fourfold  testimony.  To  some,  this  prompt, 
this  extraordinary  resurrection,  which  had  taken  place  by  night 
in  a  secret  and  suspicious  manner,  seemed  more  the  hallucina¬ 
tion  of  grief  and  of  yearning  than  actual  truth.  Who  were 
the  people  who  claimed  to  have  seen  Him?  A  hysterical 
woman  who  had  been  possessed  by  a  devil;  a  distraught  man 
who  had  not  seemed  himself  from  the  moment  when  he  had 
denied  his  Master;  and  two  plain  fellows  who  were  not  even 
His  real  Disciples,  and  whom  Jesus  had  thus  chosen,  no  one 
knew  why,  in  preference  to  His  closer  friends.  Mary  might 
have  been  deceived  by  a  phantom;  Simon,  to  win  back  his 
self-respect  after  his  baseness,  was  determined  to  do  no  less 
than  Mary;  the  others  were  perhaps  impostors  or,  at  the  most, 
visionaries.  If  Christ  were  really  risen,  would  not  He  have 
been  seen  by  them  all  while  they  were  together?  Why  these 
preferences?  Why  this  appearance  at  three-score  furlongs  from 
Jerusalem? 

They  believed  in  His  resurrection,  but  they  thought  of  it 
as  one  of  the  signs  of  the  ending  of  the  world,  when  every¬ 
thing  would  be  fulfilled.  But  now  that  they  found  themselves 
confronted  with  the  fact  that  He  alone  had  risen  from  the 
dead  while  everyday  life  went  on  as  usual,  they  realized  that 
the  return  into  life  of  human  flesh  (and  of  human  flesh  which 
had  not  gone  to  sleep  peacefully  in  the  last  sleep,  but  whose 
life  had  been  torn  away  by  violence),  that  this  idea  of  rising 
from  the  dead  not  in  the  distant  future  but  in  the  immediate 
present,  contradicted  all  the  other  concepts  which  made  up 
the  tissue  of  their  minds.  They  realized  that  this  contradic¬ 
tion  had  always  existed,  but  their  doubt  had  not  risen  to  con¬ 
sciousness  until  this  brusque  encounter  of  two  impossible  ele¬ 
ments:  a  remote  miracle  and  an  actual  fact. 

If  Jesus  had  risen  from  the  dead,  that  would  mean  that  He 
was  really  God;  but  would  a  real  God,  a  Son  of  God,  ever 
have  been  reconciled  to  allow  Himself  to  be  killed,  and  in  so 
shameful  a  way?  If  He  could  conquer  death,  why  had  He  not 
stricken  down  the  judges,  put  Pilate  to  confusion,  paralyzed 
the  arms  of  those  about  to  nail  Him  to  the  cross?  Through 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST  389 

what  paradoxical  mystery  had  the  Omnipotent  allowed  Him¬ 
self  to  be  dragged  through  the  ignominy  of  the  weak? 

They  were  reasoning  thus  among  themselves,  some  of  the 
Disciples  who  had  heard  but  had  not  understood.  Prudent 
like  all  sophists,  they  did  not  venture  openly  to  deny  the 
resurrection  in  the  presence  of  those  exalted  hearts,  but  they 
reserved  judgment,  turning  over  in  their  minds  the  reasons 
for  its  possibility  and  impossibility,  wishing  for  a  manifest 
confirmation,  but  unable  to  hope  for  one. 

In  the  excitement  of  the  day  no  one  had  eaten.  But  the 
women  had  prepared  supper,  and  now  all  sat  down  to  the 
table.  Simon  remembered  the  Last  Thursday:  ^^This  do  in 
remembrance  of  me.” 

And  a  flood  of  tears  dimmed  his  eyes  while  he  broke  the 
bread  and  gave  it  to  his  friends. 

HAVE  YE  HERE  ANY  MEAT? 

They  had  scarcely  eaten  the  last  mouthfuls  when  Jesus 
appeared  in  the  doorway,  tall  and  pale.  He  looked  at  them 
one  by  one,  and  in  His  melodious  voice  greeted  them:  ‘Teace 
be  unto  you.” 

No  one  answered.  Their  astonishment  overcame  their  jo}^, 
even  for  those  who  had  already  seen  Him  since  His  death. 
On  their  faces  the  Man  risen  from  the  dead  read  the  doubt 
which  He  knew  they  all  felt,  the  question  which  they  did  not 
dare  express  in  words,  ^^Art  Thou  really  Thyself  a  living  man, 
or  a  spirit  which  comes  from  the  caverns  of  the  dead  to 
tempt  us?” 

^‘Why  are  ye  troubled?”  said  the  Man  who  had  been  be¬ 
trayed,  ^‘and  why  do  thoughts  arise  in  your  hearts?  Behold 
my  hands  and  my  feet,  that  it  is  I,  myself:  handle  me,  and 
see;  for  a  spirit  hath  not  flesh  and  bones,  as  ye  see  me 
have.” 

And  He  stretched  out  His  hands  towards  them,  showed  them 
the  marks  still  bloody  left  by  the  nails,  opened  His  garment 
over  His  breast  so  that  they  could  see  the  mark  of  the  lance 
in  His  side.  Some  of  them,  rising  from  their  couches,  knelt 


390 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


down  and  saw  on  His  bare  feet  the  two  deep  wounds,  each 
with  its  livid  ring  around  it. 

But  they  could  not  bring  themselves  to  touch  Him,  for  they 
feared  to  see  Him  disappear  suddenly  as  He  had  come  sud¬ 
denly.  If  one  of  them  had  embraced  Him,  would  he  have 
felt  the  warm  solidity  of  a  body,  or  would  his  arms  have  passed 
through  the  emptiness  of  a  mere  shadow? 

It  was  He  with  His  face,  with  His  voice,  with  the  irrefutable 
traces  of  the  crucifixion,  and  yet  there  was  something  changed 
in  His  aspect  which  they  could  not  have  described,  even  if 
they  had  been  calm.  The  most  reluctant  were  forced  to  be¬ 
lieve  that  the  Master  stood  before  them  with  all  the  appear¬ 
ance  of  life  begun  anew,  but  their  thoughts  whirled  in  the  last 
of  their  doubts  and  they  were  silent  as  if  they  were  afraid  to 
believe  in  their  senses,  as  if  they  expected  to  wake  up,  from 
one  moment  to  another.  Even  Simon  was  silent.  What  could 
he  have  said  without  betraying  himself  by  tears  to  Him  who 
had  looked  at  him  with  those  same  eyes  in  the  courtyard  of 
Caiaphas  while  he  swore  that  he  had  never  known  Him? 

To  make  an  end  of  their  last  doubts,  Jesus  asked,  “Have 
ye  here  any  meat?” 

He  needed  no  longer  any  food  except  that  for  which  He 
had  vainly  asked  all  His  life.  But  these  men  of  the  flesh 
needed  a  fleshly  proof,  a  material  demonstration  as  was  be¬ 
fitting  those  who  believed  only  in  matter  and  nourished  them¬ 
selves  only  on  matter.  They  had  eaten  together  on  their  last 
evening;  this  evening  also,  now  that  they  were  again  together. 
He  would  eat  with  them.  “Have  ye  here  any  meat?” 

A  piece  of  broiled  fish  was  left  in  a  dish.  Simon  put  it 
before  the  Master,  who  sat  down  at  the  table  and  ate  the 
fish  with  a  piece  of  bread  while  they  all  stared  at  Him  as 
though  it  were  the  first  time  they  had  ever  seen  Him  eat. 

And  when  He  had  finished.  He  raised  His  eyes  towards 
them,  and,  “Are  you  convinced  now,  or  do  you  still  not  under¬ 
stand:  does  it  seem  possible  to  you  that  a  spirit  can  eat  as  I 
have  eaten  here  in  your  presence?  So  many  times  I  have  been 
forced  to  reprove  your  hardness  of  heart,  and  your  little  faith! 
And  behold  you  are  still  as  you  were  at  first,  and  you  were 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


391 


not  willing  to  believe  those  who  had  seen  me,  and  yet  I  had 
hid  nothing  of  what  was  to  happen  in  these  days.  But  you, 
deaf  and  forgetful,  hear  and  then  forget,  read  and  do  not 
understand.  When  I  was  with  you,  did  I  not  tell  you  that 
all  things  which  were  written  and  which  I  announced  must 
be  fulfilled;  that  it  behooved  Christ  to  suffer  and  to  rise  from 
the  dead  on  the  third  day,  and  that  repentance  and  re¬ 
mission  of  sins  should  be  preached  in  His  name  among  all 
nations,  beginning  at  Jerusalem?  Now  you  are  witnesses  of 
these  things,  and  behold  I  send  the  promise  of  m.y  Father 
upon  you.  Go  ye  into  all  the  world  and  preach  the  gospel 
to  every  creature.  All  power  is  given  unto  me  in  heaven  and 
on  earth,  and  as  the  Father  sent  me,  I  send  you.  Go  ye  there¬ 
fore  and  teach  all  nations,  teaching  them  to  observe  all  things 
whatsoever  I  have  commanded  you.  He  that  believeth  and  is 
baptized  shall  be  saved,  but  he  that  believeth  not  shall  be 
damned.  I  will  remain  here  a  little  and  we  shall  meet  again 
in  Galilee,  but  I  am  with  you  always  even  unto  the  end  of  the 
world.” 

Little  by  little  as  He  spoke,  His  Disciples’  faces  lighted  up 
with  a  forgotten  hope,  and  their  eyes  shone  with  exaltation. 
This  was  the  hour  of  consolation  after  the  gloom  of  those 
dreadful  days  just  passed.  His  indubitable  presence  showed 
that  the  impossible  was  assured,  that  God  had  not  abandoned 
them  and  never  would  abandon  them.  Their  enemies,  ap¬ 
parently  victorious,  were  conquered;  the  visible  truth  bore 
out  all  the  prophecies.  It  was  true  that  they  had  known  al¬ 
ready  everything  He  was  then  saying,  but  those  truths  really 
lived  in  them  only  when  His  lips  repeated  them. 

Their  King  had  come  back,  the  Kingdom  was  near  at  hand, 
and  His  brothers,  instead  of  being  derided  and  persecuted, 
would  reign  with  Him  through  all  eternity.  These  words  had 
fired  again  the  most  tepid,  had  brightened  the  memory  of  other 
words,  of  other  sunnier  days,  and  suddenly  they  felt  an  ex¬ 
altation,  an  ardor,  a  greater  desire  to  embrace  each  other,  to 
love  each  other,  never  more  to  be  separated  from  each  other. 
If  the  Master  was  risen  from  the  dead,  they  themselves  could 
not  die;  if  He  could  leave  the  sepulcher.  His  promises  were 


392 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


the  promises  of  a  God  and  He  would  fulfill  them  to  the  utter¬ 
most.  Their  faith  was  not  in  vain,  and  they  were  no  longer 
alone:  the  crucifixion  had  been  the  darkening  of  one  day  in 
order  that  the  light  might  shine  out  more  splendidly  for  all 
the  days  to  come. 

THOMAS  DIDYMUS 

Thomas,  called  Didymus,  was  not  present  when  Jesus  ap¬ 
peared,  but  the  day  after,  his  friends  ran  to  seek  him,  still 
agitated  by  what  Jesus  had  said.  “We  have  seen  the  Lord!” 
they  said.  “It  was  really  He.  He  talked  with  us.  He  ate 
with  us  like  a  living  man.” 

Thomas  was  one  of  those  who  had  been  profoundly  shaken 
by  the  shame  of  Golgotha.  He  had  said  once  that  he  was  ready 
to  die  with  his  Master,  but  he  had  fled  away  with  the  others 
when  the  lanterns  of  the  guard  had  appeared  on  the  Mount  of 
Olives.  His  faith  had  been  darkened  by  the  gloom  which  had 
shut  down  on  Golgotha.  In  spite  of  Christ’s  warnings,  he  had 
never  once  thought  that  the  end  of  his  Master  could  be  thus. 
To  think  of  the  shame  into  which  Jesus  let  hiniself  be  led,  with 
the  passivity  of  a  feeble  sheep,  made  him  suffer,  almost  more 
than  the  loss  of  Him  who  had  loved  him.  This  disappointment 
of  all  his  hopes  had  shocked  him  almost  as  though  he  had 
discovered  that  he  had  been  cheated,  and  in  his  eyes  his  dis¬ 
appointment  excused  even  the  shame  of  their  abandoning  Him. 
Thomas,  like  Cleopas  and  his  comrades,  was  a  sensualist,  whom 
the  exalted  example  of  Christ  had  lifted  high  into  a  world 
which  was  not  his  own.  Faith  had  taken  him  unawares,  like 
a  contagious  fervor.  But  as  soon  as  the  flame  which  had 
kindled  him  anew  every  day  was  buried,  or  seemed  buried, 
under  the  shameful  stoning  of  hate,  the  light  of  his  soul  burned 
low,  and  grew  cold.  He  took  on  again  his  first  character,  his 
real  character,  which  sought  tangible  things  with  the  senses, 
hoped  for  material  changes  in  matter,  and  expected  to  find 
only  in  material  things  material  certainties  and  consolations. 
His  eyes  refused  to  look  at  the  things  which  his  hands  could 
not  touch,  and  for  this  he  was  condemned  never  to  see  the  in- 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


393 


visible, — a  grace  reserved  only  for  those  who  believe  it  pos¬ 
sible.  He  hoped  for  the  Kingdom,  especially  when  the  words 
and  the  presence  of  Jesus  brightened  his  earthly  heart  with  the 
light  of  Heaven,  but  not  for  a  purely  spiritual  Kingdom  float¬ 
ing  in  the  firmament  among  the  unsubstantial  islands  of  the 
clouds,  but  a  kingdom  where  living,  warm-blooded  men  might 
have  eaten  and  drunk  at  solid  and  tangible  tables,  might  gov¬ 
ern  with  new  laws  a  fairer  earth  assigned  to  them  by  God. 

Thomas,  after  the  scandal  of  the  crucifixion,  was  not  at  all 
disposed  to  believe  a  hearsay  report  of  the  resurrection.  He 
had  seen  his  first  beliefs  too  roughly  disabused  to  put  any 
faith  now  in  his  equally  deceived  companions.  And  he  an¬ 
swered  to  those  who  joyfully  brought  him  the  news,  ^Txcept  I 
shall  see  in  his  hands  the  print  of  the  nails,  and  put  my  finger 
into  the  print  of  the  nails,  and  thrust  my  hand  into  his  side, 
I  will  not  believe.” 

He  had  said  at  first,  ‘‘Except  I  shall  see.”  But  he  corrected 
himself  at  once:  even  his  eyes  could  deceive  him,  and  many 
men  were  cheated  by  visions.  And  his  thoughts  went  on  to  a 
material  test,  to  the  coarse,  brutal  proof  of  fact, — to  put  his 
finger  there  where  the  nails  had  been,  to  put  his  hand,  his 
whole  hand,  where  the  lance  had  penetrated.  To  do  as  a  blind 
man  does  who  sometimes  is  less  mistaken  than  men  who  see. 

He  rejected  faith  which  is  the  higher  vision  of  the  soul. 
He  even  refused  to  have  faith  in  the  sight  of  his  eyes,  the 
most  divine  of  our  bodily  senses.  He  put  his  faith  only  in  his 
hands,  flesh  handling  flesh.  This  double  denial  left  him  in 
the  dark,  groping  like  a  blind  man,  until  the  Light  made  Man, 
through  a  supreme  loving  concession,  gave  him  back  light  for 
his  eyes  and  for  his  heart. 

But  this  answer  of  Thomas  has  made  him  one  of  the  most 
famous  men  in  the  world:  for  it  is  Christas  eternal  character¬ 
istic  to  immortalize  even  those  men  who  affronted  Him.  All 
those  afraid  to  touch  spiritual  concepts  for  fear  of  breaking 
them,  all  cheap  skeptics,  all  the  misers  in  academic  chairs,  all 
tepid  half-wits  stuffed  with  prejudices,  all  the  faint-hearted, 
sophists,  the  cynics,  the  beggars  and  the  retort-cleaners  of  sci¬ 
ence;  in  short  all  rush-lights  jealous  of  the  sun,  all  geese  hiss- 


394 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


ing  at  the  flight  of  soaring  falcons,  have  chosen  for  their  pro¬ 
tector  and  patron  Thomas  called  Didymus.  They  know  noth¬ 
ing  of  him  except  this:  he  does  not  believe  in  what  he  cannot 
touch.  This  answer  seems  to  them  the  sum-total  of  perfect 
good  sense.  Let  anybody  who  wishes  claim  that  he  sees  in  the 
darkness,  hears  in  the  silence,  speaks  in  solitude,  lives  in 
death;  the  followers  of  Thomas  can  get  no  such  idea  into  their 
thick,  dense  heads.  So-called  ‘‘reality”  is  their  stronghold,  and 
they  will  not  budge  from  it.  They  prefer  to  fill  their  lives  with 
gold  which  satisfies  no  hunger,  with  land  in  which  they  will 
occupy  so  small  a  cavity,  with  glory  so  fleeting  a  whisper  in 
the  silence  of  eternity,  with  flesh  which  is  to  become  worm- 
eaten  corruption,  and  with  those  noisy,  magic  discoveries  which 
after  enslaving  men  hurry  them  towards  the  formidable  dis¬ 
covery  of  death.  These  and  other  things  like  them  are  “real 
things,”  beloved  by  the  devotees  of  Thomas.  But  perhaps  if 
they  had  ever  had  the  idea  of  reading  what  happened  after 
that  answer  made  by  Thomas,  they  would  have  their  doubts 
even  of  him  who  doubted  the  resurrection. 

A  week  later,  the  Disciples  were  in  the  same  house  as  on 
the  first  occasion  and  Thomas  was  with  them.  He  had  hoped 
all  that  week  that  he  also  might  be  permitted  to  see  the  risen 
Master,  and  sometimes  he  had  trembled,  thinking  that  his  an¬ 
swer  might  be  the  reason  for  Christ’s  absence;  but  suddenly 
there  came  a  voice  at  the  door,  “Peace  be  unto  you.” 

Jesus  entered,  his  eyes  seeking  out  Thomas:  He  came  for 
Thomas,  for  him  alone,  because  Christ’s  love  for  him  was 
greater  than  any  affront.  And  He  called  him  by  name  and 
came  up  to  him  so  that  he  could  see  Him  clearly,  face  to  face, 
“Reach  hither  thy  finger,  and  behold  my  hands;  and  reach 
hither  thy  hand,  and  thrust  it  into  my  side:  and  be  not  faith¬ 
less,  but  believing.”  ' 

But  Thomas  did  not  obey  Him.  He  dared  not  put  his 
finger  in  the  nail  print  nor  his  hand  in  the  wound.  He  only 
said  to  him:  “My  Lord  and  my  God.” 

With  these  words  which  seemed  an  ordinary  greeting, 
Thomas  admitted  his  defeat,  fairer  than  any  victory;  and  from 
that  mom^ent  he  was  wholly  Christ’s.  Up  to  that  time  he  had 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST'  395 

revered  Him  as  a  man  more  perfect  than  others,  now  he  recog¬ 
nized  Him  as  God,  as  his  God. 

Then  Jesus,  who  could  not  forget  Thomas^  doubt,  answered, 
^Thomas,  because  thou  hast  seen  me,  thou  hast  believed: 
blessed  are  they  that  have  not  seen,  and  yet  have  believed.’’ 

This  is  the  last  of  the  Beatitudes  and  the  greatest:  blessed 
are  they  that  have  not  seen  and  yet  have  believed,  for  in  spite 
of  the  theories  of  the  dissectors  of  corpses,  the  only  truths 
which  have  an  absolute  value  in  reality  are  those  which  the 
eyes  of  the  flesh  cannot  see  and  hands  of  flesh  and  blood  can 
never  handle.  These  truths  come  from  on  high  and  reach 
the  soul  directly:  the  man  whose  soul  is  locked  shut  cannot 
receive  them,  and  will  see  them  only  on  the  day  in  which  his 
body,  with  its  five  limited  doorways,  is  like  a  shabby  worn-out 
garment  left  upon  a  bed,  in  the  interval  before  men  hide  it 
underground  like  a  noisome  afterbirth. 

Thomas  is  one  of  the  saints  and  yet  he  was  not  one  of  those 
blest  by  that  Beatitude.  An  old  legend  relates  that  up  to  the 
day' of  his  death  his  hand  was  red  with  blood,  a  legend  true 
with  all  the  truth  of  a  terrible  symbolical  meaning,  if  we  un¬ 
derstand  from  it  that  incredulity  can  be  a  form  of  murder. 
The  world  is  full  of  such  assassins  who  have  begun  by  assassi¬ 
nating  their  own  souls. 

THE  REJECTION  OF  THE  RESURRECTION 

I 

Christ’s  first  companions  were  at  last  convinced  that  His 
second  and  eternal  life  had  begun.  He  who  had  been  killed, 
who  had  slept  as  a  corpse  sleeps,  covered  with  the  perfumes 
of  Nicodemus  and  the  winding-sheet  of  Joseph,  had  after  two 
days  awakened  like  a  God.  But  how  long  it  took  them  to  admit 
the  reality  of  His  return! 

And  yet  the  enemies  of  Christ,  to  make  an  end  to  the  great¬ 
est  obstacles  in  the  way  of  their  other  negations,  have  accused 
those  very  astonished,  perplexed  Disciples  with  having  will¬ 
ingly  or  unwillingly  invented  the  myth  of  the  resurrection. 
Caiaphas  and  his  followers  claimed  that  the  Disciples  carried 
off  the  body  by  night  and  then  spread  around  the  news  of 


396 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


the  empty  sepulcher  in  order  that  weak-headed  mystics  might 
more  readily  believe  that  Christ  was  risen  and  thus  allow  those 
cheats  to  continue  their  pestiferous  trickery  in  the  name  of  the 
dead  Trickster.  And  Matthew  says  that  the  Jews  bought  some 
witnesses  with  ‘darge  money’^  that  if  needful  they  should  report 
that  they  had  seen  Simon  and  his  accomplices  violate  the  sep¬ 
ulcher  and  carry  away  on  their  shoulders  a  heavy  burden 
wrapped  in  white. 

But  His  modern  enemies,  through  a  last  remnant  of  respect 
for  those  who  founded  with  their  blood  the  indestructible 
Church,  or  rather  through  their  profound  conviction  of  the 
simple-mindedness  of  the  first  martyrs,  have  given  up  this 
idea  of  deceit.  Neither  Simon  nor  the  others  could  have  acted 
out  such  a  deception;  they  never  could  have  kept  such  a  piece 
of  trickery  straight  in  their  poor  thick  heads.  But  if  they 
were  not  consciously  deceiving,  they  were  certainly  stupid  vic¬ 
tims  of  their  own  fancy  or  of  the  knavery  of  others. 

These  enemies  of  Christ  affirm  that  the  Disciples  hoped  so 
vividly  to  see  Jesus  rise  from  the  dead  as  He  had  promised, 
and  that  the  resurrection  was  so  urgently  needed  to  counteract 
the  disgrace  of  the  crucifixion,  that  they  were  induced,  almost 
forced,  to  expect  it  and  to  announce  it  as  imminent.  Then 
in  that  atmosphere  of  superstitious  suspense,  the  vision  of  a 
hysterical  woman,  the  hallucination  of  a  dreamer,  the  delusion 
of  an  unbalanced  man  sufficed  to  spread  the  news  of  the  ap¬ 
pearance  of  Christ  about  the  little  circle  of  the  desolate  sur¬ 
vivors.  Some  of  them,  unable  to  believe  that  the  Master  had 
deceived  them,  easily  put  their  faith  in  the  affirmations  of  those 
who  claimed  to  have  seen  Him  after  His  death.  And,  by  dint 
of  repeating  the  fantasies  of  these  wild  dreams,  they  ended  by 
taking  them  seriously  themselves  and  by  convincing  the  more 
candid  souls.  Only  on  condition  of  such  a  posthumous  con¬ 
firmation  of  the  divinity  of  the  dead  man  was  it  possible  to 
hold  together  those  who  had  followed  Him  and  to  create  the 
first  stable  organization  of  the  universal  Church. 

But  those  who  with  their  accusations  of  stupidity  or  fraud 
try  to  undermine  the  certainty  of  the  first  Christian  genera¬ 
tion,  forget  too  many  things  and  too  many  essential  things. 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


397 


First  of  all  is  the  testimony  of  Paul.  Saul  the  Pharisee  had 
been  to  school  to  Gamaliel,  and  might  have  been  present,  even 
though  at  a  distance  and  as  an  enemy,  at  Christ’s  death,  and 
certainly  knew  all  the  theories  of  his  early  teachers,  the  Jews, 
about  the  pretended  resurrection.  But  Paul,  who  received  the 
first  Gospel  from  the  lips  of  James,  called  the  brother  of  the 
Lord,  and  from  Simon,  Paul  famous  in  all  the  churches  of 
the  Jews  and  the  Gentiles,  wrote  thus  in  his  first  letter  to 
the  Corinthians:  ^^Christ  died  for  our  sins  according  to  the 
scriptures;  And  that  he  was  buried,  and  that  he  rose  again 
the  third  day  according  to  the  scriptures;  and  that  he  was 
seen  of  Cephas,  then  of  the  twelve:  After  that  he  was  seen 
of  above  five  hundred  brethren  at  once;  of  whom  the  greater 
part  remain  unto  this  present,  but  some  are  fallen  asleep.”  The 
Letter  to  the  Corinthians  is  recognized  as  authentic  even  by  the 
most  disdainful  and  suspicious  nosers-out  of  falsification.  The 
first  Letter  to  the  Corinthians  cannot  have  been  written  later 
than  the  spring  of  the  year  58,  and  hence  it  is  older  than  the 
oldest  Gospel.  Many  of  those  who  had  known  the  living  Christ 
were  still  living  at  that  time  and  could  easily  have  contradicted 
or  undeceived  the  Apostle.  Corinth  was  at  the  gates  of  Asia, 
inhabited  by  many  Asiatics,  in  close  relation  with  Judea;  Paul’s 
letters  were  public  messages  which  were  publicly  read  at  gath¬ 
erings,  and  copies  of  them  were  made  to  send  to  other  churches. 
The  solemn  and  specific  testimony  of  Paul  must  have  come  to 
Jerusalem,  where  the  enemies  of  Jesus,  many  of  them  still 
alive,  would  have  found  some  way  to  controvert  them  by  other 
witnesses.  If  Paul  could  have  thought  a  valid  confutation 
possible,  he  never  would  have  dared  write  those  words.  That 
he  was  able  therefore,  so  short  a  time  after  the  event,  pub¬ 
licly  to  affirm  a  prodigy  so  contrary  to  ordinary  beliefs  and 
to  the  interests  of  Christ’s  watchful  enemies,  shows  that  the 
resurrection  was  not  merely  a  phantasy  of  a  few  fanatics,  but 
a  certainty  denied  with  difficulty,  easily  proved.  We  have 
no  other  record  except  this  letter  of  Paul’s  of  the  appearance 
of  Christ  to  the  five  hundred  brothers,  but  we  cannot  even 
for  a  moment  imagine  that  Paul,  one  of  the  greatest  and  purest 
souls  of  early  Christianity,  could  have  invented  it, — he  who 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


398 

had  so  long  persecuted  those  who  believed  in  the  reality  of  the 
resurrection.  It  is  extremely  probable  that  the  appearance  of 
Christ  to  the  five  hundred  happened  in  Galilee  on  the  mountain 
spoken  of  by  Matthew,  and  that  the  Apostle  had  known  one 
of  those  who  had  been  present  at  that  memorable  meeting. 

But  this  is  not  all.  The  Evangelists,  who  set  down  with 
some  incoherence,  but  with  the  greatest  frankness,  the  recol¬ 
lections  of  Jesus^  first  companions,  admit,  perhaps  without 
wishing  to,  that  the  Apostles  themselves  did  not  expect  the 
resurrection  and  found  it  hard  to  believe.  When  we  read  the 
four  Gospels  with  attention  we  see  that  they  continued  to 
doubt  even  with  the  risen  Christ  before  them.  When  on  Sun¬ 
day  morning  the  women  ran  to  tell  the  Disciples  that  the  sep¬ 
ulcher  was  empty  and  Christ  alive,  the  Disciples  accused  them 
of  raving.  When  later  He  appeared  to  many  in  Galilee:  “And 
when  they  saw  him,  they  worshipped  him:”  said  Matthew; 
“but  some  doubted.”  And  when  He  appeared  at  evening  in  the 
room  where  they  were  taking  supper,  there  were  some  who 
could  not  believe  their  own  eyes  and  hesitated  until  they  had 
seen  Him  eating.  Thomas  still  doubted  after  this,  until  the 
moment  when  his  Lord’s  body  was  actually  before  his  own. 

So  little  did  they  expect  to  see  Him  rise  again  that  the  first 
effect  upon  them  of  His  appearance  was  fright.  “They  were 
affrighted  and  supposed  that  they  had  seen  a  spirit.”  They 
were  therefore  not  so  credulous  and  easily  fooled  as  their  de- 
famers  would  have  them.  And  they  were  so  far  from  the  idea 
of  seeing  Him  return  a  living  man  among  the  living  that  when 
they  first  saw  Him  they  mistook  Him  for  another.  Mary  of 
Magdala  thought  that  He  was  the  gardener  of  Joseph  of 
Arimathea;  Cleopas  and  his  companions  were  not  able  to  rec¬ 
ognize  Him  all  along  the  road;  Simon  and  the  others  when 
He  came  to  them  upon  the  shore  of  the  lake,  “knew  not  that 
it  was  Jesus.”  If  they  had  really  been  expecting  Him,  Him¬ 
self,  their  minds  on  the  alert,  burning  with  longing,  would  they 
have  been  frightened,  would  they  not  have  known  Him  at 
once?  When  we  read  the  Gospels,  we  get  the  impression  that 
Christ’s  friends,  far  from  inventing  His  return,  accepted  it 
almost  because  they  were  forced,  by  external  coercion,  and 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


399 


after  much  hesitation;  the  exact  contrary,  in  short,  of  what 
is  desired  to  be  proved  by  those  who  accuse  Christas  friends  of 
being  deceived  or  of  having  deceived. 

But  why  this  hesitation?  Because  the  warnings  of  Christ 
had  not  been  able  to  dislodge  from  those  slow  and  indocile 
minds  the  old  Jewish  repugnance  to  the  idea  of  immortality. 
The  belief  in  the  resurrection  of  the  dead  was  for  centuries 
and  centuries  foreign  to  the  wholly  material  mentality  of  the 
Jews.  In  a  few  prophets  like  Daniel  and  Hosea  there  are 
some  passing  traces  of  the  idea^  but  it  does  not  appear  ex¬ 
plicitly  except  in  one  passage  of  the  story  of  the  Maccabees. 
At  the  time  of  Christ  the  common  people  had  a  confused  idea 
of  it  as  a  distant  miracle,  a  part  of  the  conceptions  of  the  Apoc¬ 
alyptic  writers,  but  they  did  not  think  it  possible  before  the 
final  upheaval  of  the  great  day:  the  Sadducees  denied  it  firmly 
and  the  Pharisees  admitted  it  as  the  remote  and  common  re¬ 
ward  of  all  righteous  men.  When  the  superstitious  Antipas 
said  that  Christ  was  John  risen  from  the  dead,  he  meant  to 
say  with  a  vigorous  figure  of  speech  that  the  new  Prophet 
was  like  a  second  John. 

Reluctance  to  admit  such  an  extraordinary  infraction  of 
the  laws  of  death  was  so  profoundly  rooted  in  the  Jewish  peo¬ 
ple  that  the  very  Disciples  of  Christ  were  not  disposed  to  admit 
the  possibility  of  the  resurrection  without  reiterated  proofs, 
although  they  had  seen  Him  raise  others  from  the  dead  and 
had  heard  Him  predict  His  own  resurrection.  And  yet  they 
had  seen  Him  bring  to  life  with  His  powerful  summons  the 
son  of  the  Widow  of  Nain,  the  daughter  of  Jairus,  the  brother 
of  Martha  and  Mary:  the  three  sleepers  whom  Jesus  had 
awakened  because  of  His  compassion  for  the  grief  of  a  mother, 
of  a  father,  of  a  sister.  But  it  was  the  habit  and  the  fate 
I  of  the  Twelve  to  misunderstand  and  to  forget.  They  were  too 
:  set  upon  their  material  thoughts  to  be  ready  to  believe  at  once 
;  such  a  victory  over  death.  But  when  they  were  convinced, 
t  their  certainty  was  so  firm  and  strong  that  from  the  sowing 
of  those  first  enforced  witnesses  has  sprung  up  an  enormous 
harvest  of  men  born  again  in  the  faith  of  the  resurrected  One 
— which  the  centuries  have  not  yet  mowed  down. 


400 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


The  calumnies  of  the  Jews,  the  accusations  of  false  witnesses, 
the  doubts  of  the  Disciples,  the  plots  of  implacable  enemies, 
the  fallacious  sophistry  of  the  progeny  of  Thomas,  the  fantasies 
of  heresiarchs,  the  distorted  conceptions  of  men  eager  to 
prove  Christ  definitely  dead,  the  turns  and  twists  of 
the  myth-spinners,  the  mines  and  assaults  of  the  higher  and 
lower  criticism  have  not  availed  to  wrench  from  the  millions 
of  human  hearts  the  certainty  that  the  body  taken  down  from 
the  cross  of  Golgotha  reappeared  on  the  third  day  to  die  no 
more.  The  people  chosen  by  Christ  condemned  Him  to  death, 
hoping  to  have  done  with  Him,  but  death  refused  Him  as  the 
Jews  had  refused  Him,  and  humanity  has  not  yet  finished  its 
accounting  with  that  assassinated  Man  who  came  out  from 
the  sepulcher  to  show  that  breast  where  the  Roman  lance  had 
forever  made  visible  the  heart  which  loves  those  who  hate 
Him. 

The  cowardly  souls  who  will  not  believe  in  His  first  life, 
in  His  second  life,  in  His  eternal  life,  cut  themselves  off  from 
true  life:  from  life  which  is  generous  acceptance,  spontaneous 
love,  hope  in  the  invisible,  certainty  of  the  truth  which  passeth 
understanding.  They  themselves  are  dead,  although  they  seem 
living,  those  who  refuse  Him,  as  death  refused' Him.  Those 
who  drag  the  weight  of  their  still  warm  and  breathing  corpses 
over  the  patient  earth  laugh  at  the  resurrection.  The  second 
birth  in  the  spirit  will  not  be  granted  to  those  who  reject  life, 
but  an  appalling  and  inevitable  resurrection  will  be  granted 
to  them  on  the  last  day. 

THE  RETURN  BY  THE  SEA 

When  the  tragedy  had  drawn  to  a  close  with  its  greatest 
sorrow,  its  greatest  joy,  every  one  turned  again  to  his  own 
destination,  the  Son  to  the  Father,  the  King  to  His  Kingdom, 
the  High  Priest  to  his  basins  of  blood,  the  fishermen  to  their 
nets. 

These  water-soaked  nets,  with  broken  meshes,  torn  by  the 
unaccustomed  weight  of  the  great  draughts,  so  many  times 
mended,  patched,  knotted  together  again,  which  had  been  left 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


401 


by  the  first  fishers  of  men  without  one  backward  look,  on  the 
shores  of  Capernaum,  had  finally  been  mended  and  laid  on 
one  side,  by  some  one  with  the  prudence  of  the  stay-at-home 
who  knows  that  dreams  are  soon  over  and  hunger  lasts  for  all 
one’s  lifetime.  The  wife  of  Simon,  the  father  of  James  and 
John,  the  brother  of  Thomas,  had  saved  the  casting  nets  and 
the  drag-nets  as  tools  which  might  be  useful,  in  memory  of  the 
exiles,  as  if  a  voice  had  said  to  those  who  had  remained  at 
home:  “They  too  will  come  back;  the  Kingdom  is  fair,  but 
far  distant,  and  the  lake  is  fair  now,  to-day,  and  full  of  fish. 
Holy  is  holiness,  but  no  man  lives  by  the  spirit  alone.  And  a 
fish  on  the  table  now  is  worth  more  to  a  hungry  man  than  a 
throne  a  year  from  now.” 

And  for  a  time  the  wisdom  of  the  stay-at-homes,  taken 
root  in  their  native  countryside  like  moss  on  a  stone,  was  vin¬ 
dicated.  The  fishermen  returned.  The  fishers  of  men  ap¬ 
peared  again  in  Galilee  and  once  more  took  the  old  nets  into 
their  hands.  They  had  received  the  order  of  Him  who  had 
drawn  them  away  from  there  that  they  should  be  witnesses 
to  His  shame  and  to  His  glory.  They  had  not  forgotten  Him 
and  they  could  never  forget  Him:  they  always  talked  of  Him 
among  themselves  and  with  all  those  who  were  willing  to  listen 
to  them.  But  Christ  on  His  return  had  said,  “We  will  meet 
again  in  Galilee.”  And  they  had  gone  away  from  ill- 
omened  Judea,  from  the  mercenary  city  ruled  by  its  murder¬ 
ous  masters,  and  they  had  trod  once  more  the  road  back  to 
their  sweet,  calm  fatherland,  whence  the  loving  ravisher  of 
souls  had  snatched  them  away.  The  old  houses  had  a  mellow 
beauty,  with  the  white  banners  of  newly  washed  linen,  and 
the  young  grass  greening  along  the  old  walls,  and  the  tables 
cleaned  by  humble  old  hands,  and  the  oven,  which  every  week 
spat  out  sparks  from  its  flaming  mouth.  And  the  quiet  fishing- 
town  had  beauty,  too;  with  its  tanned  naked  boys,  the  sun 
high  over  the  level  market-place,  the  bags  and  baskets  in 
the  shadow  of  the  inns,  and  the  smell  of  fish  which  at  dawn 
was  wafted  over  it,  with  the  morning  breeze.  But  more  beauti¬ 
ful  than  all  was  the  lake:  a  gray-blue  and  slate-colored  ex¬ 
panse  on  cloudy  afternoons:  a  milky  basin  of  opal  with  lines 


402 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


and  patches  of  jacinth  on  warm  evenings;  a  dark  shadov; 
flecked  with  white  on  starry  nights:  a  silvery,  heaving  shadow 
in  the  moonlight.  On  this  lake  which  seemed  the  very  spirit 
of  the  quiet,  happy  countryside,  the  fishermen's  eyes  had  for  the 
first  time  discovered  the  beauty  of  light  and  of  water,  nobler 
than  the  heavy  unlovely  earth  and  kinder  than  fire.  The  boat 
with  its  slanting  sails,  its  worn  seats,  the  high  red  rudder,  had 
from  their  childhood  been  dearer  to  them  than  that  other 
home  which  awaited  them,  stationary,  whitened,  four-square 
on  the  bank.  Those  infinitely  long  hours  of  tedium  and  of 
hope  as  they  gazed  at  the  brilliant  water,  the  swaying  of  the 
nets,  the  darkening  of  the  sky,  had  filled  the  greater  part  of 
their  poor  and  homely  lives. 

Then  came  the  day  when  a  Master,  poorer  and  more  power¬ 
ful  than  they,  had  called  them  to  Himself  to  be  workers  with 
Him  in  a  supernatural,  perilous  undertaking.  The  poor  souls 
uprooted  from  their  usual  surroundings  had  done  their  best  to 
be  lighted  by  that  flame,  but  the  new  life  had  trodden  them 
out  like  grapes  in  the  wine-press,  like  olives  in  the  olive  crusher 
in  order  that  their  rough  hearts  should  yield  up  tears  of  love 
and  pity. 

It  was  only  after  the  Cross  had  been  raised  on  Golgotha 
that  they  had  wept  with  true  sorrow:  and  only  after  the  Cruci¬ 
fied  Leader  had  returned  to  break  bread  with  them  that  they 
had  been  kindled  anew  to  hope. 

And  now  they  had  come  home,  bringing  back  only  a  few 
recollections,  and  yet  those  recollections  were  enough  to  trans¬ 
form  the  world.  But  before  beginning  the  work  which  He  had 
commanded,  they  were  waiting  to  see  Him  whom  they  loved  in 
the  place  which  He  had  loved.  They  were  different  men  from 
the  men  v/ho  had  gone  away,  more  restless,  sadder,  almost 
estranged,  as  if  they  had  come  back  from  the  land  of  the 
lotus-eaters  and  saw  from  beyond  with  purer  eyes  a  new  earth 
indissolubly  united  with  Heaven.  But  the  nets  were  there, 
hung  up  on  the  walls,  and  the  boats  at  anchor  swayed  up  and 
down  on  the  water.  Once  more  the  fishers  of  men,  perhaps 
out  of  nostalgia,  perhaps  out  of  material  need,  began  to  be 
lake  fishermen. 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


403 


Seven  Disciples  of  Christ  were  together  one  evening  in  the 
harbor  of  Capernaum,  Simon  called  Peter,  Thomas  called 
Didymus,  Nathanael  of  Cana,  James,  John  and  two  others. 
Simon  said,  go  ahshing.” 

His  friends  answered,  ^‘We  also  go  with  thee.” 

They  went  into  the  boat  and  put  off,  but  all  that  night  they 
caught  nothing.  When  day  came,  a  little  depressed  because 
of  the  wasted  night,  they  came  back  towards  the  shore.  And 
when  they  were  near  they  saw  in  the  faint  light  of  the  dawn 
a  man  standing  on  the  shore,  who  seemed  to  be  waiting  for 

them.  ^Tut  the  disciples  knew  not  that  it  was  Jesus.” 

^^Children,  have  ye  any  meat?”  called  the  unknown  man. 

And  they  answered,  ^^No.” 

“Cast  the  net  on  the  right  side  of  the  ship,  and  ye  shall  find.” 

They  obeyed  and  in  a  moment  the  net  was  so  full  that 
they  were  scarcely  able  to  draw  it  in.  And  they  all  began  to 
tremble  because  they  had  guessed  who  it  was  awaiting  them. 

“It  is  the  Lord,”  said  John  to  Simon. 

■  Peter  answered  nothing,  but  hastily  drew  on  his  fisher’s 
coat  (for  he  was  naked),  and  cast  himself  into  the  sea  that  he 
might  be  first  on  shore.  The  boat  was  scarcely  two  hundred 
cubits  from  the  land  and  in  a  few  moments  the  seven  Disciples 
were  about  their  Lord.  And  no  one  asked  Him,  “Who  art 
thou?” — because  they  had  recognized  Him. 

On  the  shore  there  were  bread  and  a  lighted  brazier  with 
fishes  broiling  on  it,  and  Jesus  said,  “Bring  of  the  fish  which 
ye  have  now  caught.” 

And  for  the  last  time  He  broke  the  Bread  and  gave  to  them 
and  the  fish  likewise.  After  they  had  finished  eating  Jesus 
turned  to  Simon  and  under  His  look  the  unhappy  man,  silent 
till  then,  turned  pale:  “Simon,  son  of  Jonas,  lovest  thou  me 
more  than  these?” 

The  man  who  had  denied  Him,  when  he  heard  this  question 
full  of  tenderness,  but  for  him  so  cruel,  felt  himself  carried 
back  to  another  place  beside  another  brazier  with  other  ques¬ 
tions  put  to  him,  and  he  remembered  the  answer  he  had  made 

then,  and  the  look  from  Christ  about  to  die  and  his  own  great 
lamentation  in  the  night.  And  he  dared  not  answer  as  he 


4.04 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


wished:  in  his  mouth  would  have  been  boasting  and 

shamelessness:  “No’^  would  have  been  a  shameful  lie. 

“Yea,  Lord;  thou  knowest  that  I  love  thee.” 

He  made  no  claim  for  himself  but  “thou  knowest  that  I  love 
thee,”  Thou  who  knowest  all  and  seest  into  the  most  hidden 
hearts.  “I  love  thee”:  but  he  had  not  the  courage  to  add 
“more  than  these”  in  the  presence  of  the  others,  who  knew 
what  he  had  done. 

Christ  said  to  him,  “Feed  my  lambs.” 

And  for  the  second  time  He  asked  him:  “Simon,  son  of 
Jonas,  lovest  thou  me?” 

And  Peter  in  his  trouble  found  no  other  answer  than,  “Yea, 
Lord;  thou  knowest  that  I  love  thee.” 

Why  dost  Thou  still  make  me  suffer?  Dost  Thou  not  know 
without  my  telling  Thee  that  I  love  Thee,  that  I  love  Thee 
more  than  at  first,  as  I  have  never  loved  Thee,  and  that  I  will 
give  up  my  life  to  affirm  my  love? 

Then  Jesus  said,  “Feed  my  sheep.” 

And  for  the  third  time  He  insisted,  “Simon,  son  of  Jonas, 

'  lovest  thou  me?” 

He  was  drawing  from  Peter  three  affirmations,  three  new 
promises  to  cancel  his  three  denials  at  Jerusalem.  But  Peter 
could  not  endure  this  repeated  suffering.  Almost  weeping.  He 
cried  out,  “Lord,  thou  knowest  all  things;  thou  knowest  that 
I  love  thee!” 

The  terrible  ordeal  was  over,  and  Jesus  went  on,  “Feed  my 
sheep.  Verily,  verily  I  say  unto  thee.  When  thou  wast  young, 
thou  girdest  thyself,  and  walkedst  whither  thou  wouldest:  but 
when  thou  shalt  be  old,  thou  shalt  stretch  forth  thy  hands, 
and  another  shall  gird  thee,  and  carry  whither  thou  wouldest 
not.” 

That  is,  to  the  cross,  like  the  cross  where  they  nailed  me. 
Know,  therefore,  what  it  means  to  love  me.  My  love  is  brother 
to  death.  Because  I  love  you,  they  have  killed  me:  for  your 
love  for  me,  they  will  kill  you.  Think,  Simon,  son  of  Jonas, 
what  is  the  covenant  which  you  make  with  me,  and  the  fate 
which  is  before  you.  From  now  on,  I  shall  not  be  at  hand  to 
take  you  back,  to  give  you  the  peace  of  forgiveness,  after 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


405 


coward  fallings  from  grace.  From  now  on  defections 
and  desertions  will  be  a  thousand  times  more  serious. 
You  must  answer  for  all  the  lambs  which  I  leave  in  your  care 
and  as  reward  at  the  end  of  your  labors  you  will  have  two 
crossed  beams,  and  four  nails  as  I  had,  and  life  eternal. 
Choose:  it  is  the  last  time  that  you  can  choose  and  it  is  a  choice 
for  all  time — irrevocable.  For  an  account  will  be  asked  of 
you  as  a  servant  left  in  the  place  of  his  master:  and  now  that 
you  know  all  and  have  decided,  come  with  me. 

^Tollow  me  I” 

Peter  obeyed,  but  turning  about  saw  John  coming  after  him 
and  said,  ‘Tord,  and  what  shall  this  man  do?” 

Jesus  said  to  him,  ‘Hf  I  will  that  he  tarry  till  I  come,  what 
is  that  to  thee?  follow  thou  me!” 

For  Simon  the  primacy  and  martyrdom;  for  John  immor¬ 
tality  and  endless  waiting.  He  who  bore  the  same  name  as 
the  precursor  of  Christ’s  first  coming  was  to  prophesy  His 
second  coming.  The  historian  of  the  end  was  to  be  persecuted, 
a  solitary  prisoner,  but  he  was  to  live  longer  than  all  the  others 
and  to  see  with  his  own  eyes  the  crumbling  of  the  stones,  not 
one  left  upon  another,  of  the  ill-omened  hill  of  Jerusalem. 
In  his  sonorous  blue  desert,  in  the  midst  of  the  blinding  light 
and  the  immense  blackness  of  the  midnight  sea,  in  his  vision 
of  the  great  deeds  of  the  last  day  he  will  rejoice  and  suffer. 
Peter  followed  Christ,  was  crucified  for  Christ  and  left  behind 
him  the  eternal  dynasty  of  the  Vicars  of  Christ:  but  John  was 
not  permitted  to  find  rest  in  death:  he  waits  with  us,  the  con¬ 
temporary  of  every  generation,  silent  as  love,  eternal  as  hope. 

THE  CLOUD 

Once  more  they  returned  to  Jerusalem,  leaving  their  nets, 
this  time  forever,  travelers  setting  out  upon  a  journey,  the 
stages  of  which  were  to  be  marked  by  blood. 

In  the  same  place  where  He  had  gone  down  to  the  city 
glorified  by  men,  in  the  shade  of  blossoming  branches, 
He  was  to  rise  again  after  the  interval  of  His  dishonor 
and  His  resurrection,  in  the  glory  of  Heaven.  He  re- 


4o6 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


mained  in  the  midst  of  men,  for  forty  days  after  the  resur¬ 
rection,  for  as  long  a  time  as  He  had  remained  in  the  desert 
after  His  symbolic  death  by  water.  Although  His  body  seemed 
human.  His  life  was  transfigured  into  the  ultimate  sublimina- 
tion  of  humanity  and  He  was  ready  to  enter  as  pure  spirit, 
into  the  spirit  of  the  Father  from  whom  He  had  been  separated 
thirty  years  before,  that  He  might  cast  a  gleam  of  heavenly 
light  upon  the  shadow-darkened  world. 

He  did  not,  as  before,  lead  a  life  in  common  with  the  Dis¬ 
ciples,  because  He  was  separated  now  from  the  life  of  living 
men;  but  He  reappeared  to  them  more  than  once  to  confirm 
His  great  promises,  and  perhaps  to  explain  to  those  most  capa¬ 
ble  of  receiving  them  those  mysteries  which  were  not  written 
down  in  any  book  but  were  passed  on,  under  the  seal  of  secrecy, 
through  all  the  apostolic  period  and  the  following  periods,  and 
were  imperfectly  set  down  later  under  the  title  of  Arcana  Dis¬ 
ciplina. 

The  last  time  they  saw  Him  was  on  the  Mount  of  Olives, 
where  before  His  death  He  had  prophesied  the  ruin  of  the 
Temple  and  of  the  city  and  the  signs  of  His  return,  and  where, 
in  the  darkness  of  night  and  of  anguish,  Satan,  before  his  final 
defeat,  had  left  Him  wet  with  sweat  and  blood.  It  was  one 
of  the  last  evenings  of  May  and  the  clouds  in  that  golden 
hour,  like  golden  celestial  islands  in  the  gold  of  the  setting 
sun,  seemed  to  rise  from  the  warm  earth  towards  near-by 
Heaven,  like  incense  from  great  fragrant  offerings.  In  the 
fields  of  grain,  the  birds  began  to  call  back  the  fledg¬ 
lings  to  the  nests,  and  the  cool  breeze  lightly  shook  the 
branches  and  their  drooping,  unripened  fruit.  From  the  dis¬ 
tant  city,  still  inact,  from  the  pinnacles,  the  towers  and  the 
white  squares  of  the  Temple  rose  a  smoky  cloud  of  dust. 

And  once  again  the  Disciples  asked  Jesus  the  question  which 
they  had  put  to  Him  in  the  same  place  on  the  evening  of  the 
two  prophecies.  Now  that  He  had  come  back  as  He  had 
promised,  what  else  were  they  to  await? 

‘‘Lord,  wilt  thou  at  this  time  restore  again  the  kingdom  to 
Israel?” 

They  may  have  meant  the  Kingdom  of  God,  which  in  their 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


407 


minds,  as  in  the  minds  of  the  Prophets,  was  one  with  the 
Kingdom  of  Israel,  since  the  divine  restoration  of  the  earth 
was  to  begin  with  Judea. 

Christ  answered:  ^Ht  is  not  for  you  to  know  the  times  or  the 
season,  which  the  Father  hath  put  in  his  own  power.  But 
ye  shall  receive  power,  after  that  the  Holy  Ghost  is  come 
upon  you:  and  ye  shall  be  witnesses  unto  me  both  in  Jerusa¬ 
lem,  and  in  all  Judea,  and  in  Samaria,  and  unto  the  uttermost 
parts  of  the  earth.’^ 

And  having  said  this.  He  lifted  up  His  hands  and  blessed 
them.  And  while  they  beheld,  He  was  taken  up  from  the 
earth  and  suddenly  a  shining  cloud  as  on  the  morning  of  the 
Transfiguration  wrapped  Him  about  and  hid  Him  from  their 
sight.  But  they  could  not  look  away  from  the  sky  and  con¬ 
tinued  to  gaze  steadfastly  up  in  their  astonishment,  when  two 
men  in  white  apparel  spoke  to  them:  ‘^Ye  men  of  Galilee, 
why  stand  ye  gazing  up  into  heaven?  this  same  Jesus,  which 
is  taken  up  from  you  into  heaven,  shall  so  come  in  like  manner 
as  ye  have  seen  him  go  into  heaven.’’ 

Then  having  prayed  in  silence,  they  returned  to  Jerusalem, 
glowing  with  melancholy  joy,  thinking  of  the  day  just  begun: 
the  first  day  of  a  task  which,  after  two  thousand  years,  is 
not  yet  accomplished.  They  were  alone  now,  alone  against 
that  innumerable  enemy  called  the  World.  But  Heaven  is  not 
so  cut  off  from  the  earth  as  before  the  coming  of  Christ; 
the  mystic  ladder  of  Jacob  is  no  longer  a  lonely  man’s  dream, 
but  is  set  up  on  the  earth,  on  this  earth  which  we  tread,  and 
above  there  is  an  Intercessor  who  does  not  forget  the  ephemeral 
beings  destined  to  eternal  life  who,  for  a  time,  were  His 
brothers.  “Lo,  I  am  with  you  alway,  even  unto  the  end  of 
the  world”  had  been  one  of  His  last  promises  and  the  greatest. 
He  had  ascended  into  Heaven,  but  Heaven  was  no  longer 
merely  the  barren  dome  where  swift,  tumultuous  storm-clouds 
appear  and  disappear;  where  the  stars  shine  out  silently,  like 
the  souls  of  saints. 

He  is  still  with  us,  the  Son  of  Man,  who  to  be  nearer 
Heaven  ascended  mountains,  who  was  light  made  manifest, 
who  died^  raised  above  the  earth  towards  the  blackness  of 


LIFE  OF  CHRIST 


408 

Heaven,  and  rose  from  the  dead  to  ascend  into  Heaven  in  the 
peacefulness  of  evening,  and  who  will  return  again  on  the 
clouds  of  Heaven.  He  is  still  present  in  the  world  which  He 
meant  to  free.  Fie  is  still  attentive  to  our  words,  if  they  truly 
come  from  the  depths  of  our  hearts,  to  our  tears  if  they  are 
tears  of  blood  in  our  hearts  before  being  salt  drops  in  our 
eyes.  He  is  with  us,  an  invisible,  benignant  guest,  never  more 
to  leave  us,  because  by  His  wish  our  earthly  life  is  an  antici¬ 
pation  of  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven,  and  is  a  part  of  Heaven  from 
this  day  on.  Christ  has  taken  to  Himself  as  His  eternal  pos¬ 
session  that  rough  foster-mother  of  us  all,  that  sphere  which 
is  but  a  point  in  the  infinite  and  yet  contains  hope  for  the 
infinite;  and  to-day  He  is  closer  to  us  than  when  He  ate  the 
bread  of  our  fields.  No  divine  promise  can  be  blotted  out: 
the  May  cloud  which  hid  Him  from  sight,  still  hovers  near 
the  earth,  and  every  day  we  raise  our  weary  and  mortal  eyes 
to  that  same  Heaven  from  which  He  will  descend  in  the  ter¬ 
rible  splendor  of  His  glory. 


INDEX 


Abba,  Father,  302 
Abnegation,  309 
Abraham,  42 

Achilles,  100;  Priam  and,  117,  120 

Adam,  127 

Adulteress,  223 

Adultery,  loi,  210 

Adversary.  See  Satan 

Agrapha,  12 

Aim  of  this  book,  13,  14,  17,  20 

Ajax  of  Sophocles,  118 

Alabaster  box,  224 

Alms,  109 

Andrew,  82 

Angels,  62,  74,  212 

Anger,  100 

Animality,  98,  123 

Animals,  22 

Annas,  251,  313 

Anointing,  224 

Anti-Christ,  4 

Anxiety  for  the  morrow,  109 
Apostles,  85,  178.  See  also  Dis¬ 
ciples 

Aquinas,  Thomas,  185 
Arcana  Discipline,  406 
Aristophanes,  198,  199 
Aristotle,  119,  136 
Art,  124 

Ascension,  241,  405,  407 
Asking  and  receiving,  156 
Ass,  22,  1 16;  Jesus  riding  on,  244 
Augustus,  204 

Author  of  this  book,  his  coming  to 
Christ,  18 
Authority,  13 
Avarice,  iii 
Awakened  one,  30 

Babylon,  44 
Balaam,  22,  23 
Banks  and  bankers,  250 
Banquet  of  the  Kingdom,  153,  154 
Baptism,  of  blood,  300;  of  Jesus, 
57,  60;  John  the  Baptist,  54;  sec¬ 
ond  baptism  of  Jesus — the  tears 
of  the  woman  who  was  a  sinner, 
228 

Barabbas,  341 
Barns,  new,  174 


Beatitudes,  87,  93;  last  and  great¬ 
est,  395 
Beauty,  15 

Beggars,  80,  154,  193 
Behold  the  man  !,  346 
Belief,  73,  74,  395 
Benevolence,  113 
Bestiality,  62,  73,  92,  323 
Bethany,  140 

Bethlehem,  24,  25  ;  babies,  28 
Bethpage,  244 
Betrayal,  281 
Betrayal  of  women,  102 
Birth  of  Jesus,  21 
Blasphemy,  322 
Blindfolding  Jesus,  325 
Blindness,  133 

Blood,  scourging  of  Jesus,  345; 
sweat  and  blood  of  Jesus  in 
Gethsemane,  306  ;  water  and, 
from  body  of  Jesus,  375;  wine 
and,  298 

Blood-offering,  29 
Boyhood,  32 

Bread,  as  the  body  of  Christ,  296, 
298;  breaking,  297;  eating,  as 
communion  with  God,  295  ;  fishes 
and,  146;  material  and  spiritual, 
66,  133,  146;  unleavened,  295, 
297 

Bridegroom,  155 

Brothers,  161,  168,  207;  anger  to¬ 
ward,  100;  love  for,  1 14 
Buddha,  95,  198 
Buddhism,  114 
Burial  of  Jesus,  379 
Business  as  a  God,  250 
Business  men,  79 
But  I  say  unto  you,  100 

Caesar,  faith,  148;  images,  327; 
things  which  are  Caesar’s,  202, 
204,  330 
Caesarea,  233 

Cain,  descendants  of,  255 
Cainites,  282 

Caiaphas,  243,  251,  278,  287,  310, 
315,  318,  348;  adjuration  of  Jesus, 
321  ;  rends  his  garment,  322 
Caligula,  270,  271 


409 


410 


INDEX 


Camel  and  needle’s  eye,  i8i 
Cana,  141 
Canaan,  43 
Capernaum,  74,  76 
Capital  punishment,  356 
Carpenter,  35;  Jesus  as,  36 
Catalepsy,  139 
Catholic  Church,  12 
Celibacy,  21 1 
Centurion,  352,  355,  356 
Cerinthus,  268 
Chaldea,  24 
Charity,  173,  265 
Chastity,  21 1,  212 

Children,  216;  Bethlehem,  28; 
Jesus’  love  of,  217;  Moses  and, 
215  ;  old  law  and  its  reversal  by 
Jesus,  218 

Christ,  Jesus  declares  himself,  247; 
living  to-day,  6,  408  ;  memory,  5  ; 
modern  opinion  of,  19;  second 
coming,  259,  262;  Thou  art  the 
Christ,  235.  See  also  Jesus;  Sec¬ 
ond  coming 
Christian  era,  6,  71 
Christian  martyrs,  269 
Christianity,  precedents  for,  119 
Christs,  false,  260,  267 
Church,  396;  Catholic,  12;  Peter 
and,  237 
Circe,  122 

Claudia  Procula,  333,  376 
Cleopas,  384,  385,  387 
Cloud,  Jesus’  glorification,  405 
Clovis,  369 
Cock  crow,  315,  317 
Commerce,  250 
Communion  with  God,  295 
Confucius,  113 

Conversion,  73;  in  Jesus’  life,  58 
Converted  sinner,  59 
Corinthians,  letter  to  the,  397 
Cost,  counting,  153 
Country,  39 
Courage,  106 

Court  of  the  Gentiles,  248 
Courtesy,  113 
Covenants,  40 
Crates,  198,  199 
Criticism,  8,  12 

Cross,  304,  305,  352;  Jesus  and  the 
two  thieves  carrying,  353  ;  Jesus 
nailed  to,  360  ;  superscription, 
351,  See  also  Crucifixion 
Crown  of  thorns,  346 
Crucifixion,  359,  367 
Crucify  him!,  338,  340,  343,  347 


Cynics,  198 
Cyrenian,  353,  355 

Daniel,  271 

Darkness,  at  the  crucifixion,  367, 
370  ;  Jesus’  hour  of,  310 
David,  43,  1 16 
Day  of  the  Lord,  262 
Dead,  raising,  138 
Death,  133  ;  Egypt’s  obsession,  31  ; 

Jewish  views,  399 
Death  of  Jesus,  authors  and  accom¬ 
plices,  242,  243  ;  foreknowledge, 
241  ;  His  prayer,  Abba,  Father, 
302.  See  also  Crucifixion 
Deborah,  43 

Debts,  forgiving,  171,  230 
Defilement,  104 
Demons,  137,  175 
Desert,  61,  68,  69 
Devil.  See  Satan 
Didymus,  392 

Disciples,  176;  duty,  189;  earliest, 
75  ;  first  four,  82  ;  foretold  of 
Jesus’  death,  242;  instructions  to, 
188;  mystic  identity  with  Jesus, 
192;  persecutions,  268;  reappear¬ 
ance  o£  Jesus  to,  after  the  resur¬ 
rection,  403  ;  at  resurrection  of 
Jesus,  388,  389;  speaking  in  the 
light,  190;  warnings  to,  180 
Discord,  206 
Dismas,  363,  367 
Divinity,  123 
Divorce,  210 

Doing  versus  hearing,  158 

Dositheus,  268 

Doubt  of  Thomas,  392 

Earthly  kingdoms,  63,  65,  67,  72 
Earthquakes,  270 
Easter,  243,  295 
Edification,  14 

Education  of  the  human  race,  98 
Egypt,  character,  31  ;  death  and 
mud,  31;  exile  in,  32;  flight  into, 
30;  Jews  in,  42 
Egyptians,  114 
Eider  son,  167,  169 
Elders,  242 
Elias,  240,  373 
Eloquence,  16 
Elxai,  268 
Emmaus,  384 

End  of  the  world,  262,  266 
Enemies,  Egyptians  and,  1 14; 
Greeks  and,  117;  hatred  of,  126; 


INDEX 


Jewish  treatment  of,  115;  love  of, 
121 

Ennoea,  267 
Entreaty,  156 
Epileptics,  135 
Erudition,  13 
Eternal  life,  264,  400 
Eternal  punishment,  264 
Eternity,  71 

Evangelists  on  the  Resurrection, 

398 

Evil,  flight  from,  105;  root  of,  100 
Evil  for  evil,  105 
Exaggeration,  100 
Exile  in  Egypt,  32 
Expiation,  279 


Faith,  132,  133,  136,  148 
False  Christs.  260,  267 
False  witnesses,  319 
Family,  103 
Farmers,  79 

Father,  real,  34  ;  universal,  45 
Fatherhood  of  God,  37 
Father’s  business,  33 
Fathers  and  sons,  213 
Fatted  calf,  167 
Feast,  153 

Feed  my  sheep,  404 

Feet,  washing  of,  292 

Fig  tree,  accursed,  144 

Fire,  207;  from  heaven,  184; 

prophet  of  fire,  54 
First  and  last,  180 
First  covenant,  40 
Fishermen,  78  ;  earliest  disciples, 
82,  84;  return  to  the  sea,  400 
Fishers  of  men,  83 
Flesh,  conquest  of,  212;  one  flesh, 
209 

Flight  from  evil,  105 
Flight  into  Egypt,  30 
Flogging,  343,  344 
Flood,  41 
Florence,  20 

Forgive  them,  356,  358,  363 
Forgiveness,  170;  of  sin,  231 
Forsaken,  on  the  cross,  372 
Forty  days,  62 
Fourth  Covenant,  43 
Frankincense,  25 

Friends,  Jesus  and  Judas,  285;  lay¬ 
ing  down  life  for,  294;  posthu¬ 
mous,  376 
Friendliness,  75 
Fulvia,  334 


411 

Galilee,  69,  71,  401 
Gardeners,  78 

Garments  of  Jesus,  division,  361 
Gate,  narrow,  156 
Gentiles  and  Jerusalem,  262 
Gethsemane,  181,  183,  302 
Gnostics,  268 

God,  122;  as  Father,  37;  imitation 
of,  123  ;  likeness  to,  123  ;  reign  of, 
71  ;  will  of,  309 
Gods  of  Greece,  64 
Gold,  frankincense  and  myrrh,  25 
Golgotha,  357 
Good  Friday,  350 
Good  thief,  363 
Good  tidings,  74 
Gospel,  74 

Gospels,  6;  authenticity,  ii 
Greatness,  177 
Greek  gods,  64 

Greeks,  treatment  of  enemies,  117 

Happiness,  95,  97,  I54 
Harvest,  175 
Hasmonseans,  27 

Hatred,  of  enemies,  126;  of  others, 
in;  of  ourselves,  124,  125 
He  is  risen,  381 
Health,  134,  138;  of  soul,  102 
Hearing  versus  doing,  158 
Heaven,  73,  407.  See  also  King¬ 
dom  of  Heaven 
Heights,  130 
Heresies,  267 
Hermon,  Mount,  238 
Herod  Antipas,  335;  Jesus  before, 
337 

Herod  the  Great,  27,  325 
Herodias,  336 

High  Priests,  242  ;  plot  against 
Jesus,  277,  278 
Hillel,  1 17 
Holiness,  122,  205 
Horace,  26 
Hosannas,  246 
Hosea,  274 

House  on  a  rock,  158 
Human  nature,  mystery,  234 
Human  race,  education,  98 
Humility,  125,  172,  293 
Hungering  after  justice,  90 
Husbandman,  good,  175 
Hypocrites,  255 

Ideas^  of  Jesus,  antiquity  of,  112 
Imagination,  15,  16 
Immortality,  399 


412 


INDEX 


Inasmuch,  264 
Incest,  336 
Inferno,  35 

Inheriting  the  earth,  88 
Injustice,  91 

Innocents,  slaughter  of,  28 
Insults,  92,,  314,  324,  354 
Intellectualism,  124 
Intelligence,  87 
Introduction,  3 

Jairus’  daughter,  139 
Jarnes,  83,  183,  184 
Jericho.  172 

Jerusalem,  desolation,  261  ;  destruc¬ 
tion,  44,  45,  271,  272;  last  journey 
to,  244  ;  Passover  32  ;  worldly, 
69 

Jesus,  attempts  on  his  life,  241  ; 
baptism  of,  57,  60;  birth,  21; 
blindfolded,  325  ;  as  the  Christ, 
233  ;  condemnation,  322  ;  crucifix¬ 
ion,  359,  367;  deeds,  130;  fore¬ 
knowledge,  49;  foreknowledge  of 
death,  241  ;  friendliness,  75  ; 
hatred  and  condemnation  for, 
275;  healer,  138;  Herod  Antipas 
and,  334  ;  liberator,  299,  384  ; 
nailed  to  the  cross,  360;  nature, 
233  ;  Pilate  and,  329,  338  ;  Pilate’s 
question,  330,  332;  poverty,  193; 
prosecution,  315;  resurrection, 
381  ;  road  to  Emmaus,  384  ;  sec¬ 
ond  crucifixion,  3  ;  sinlessness, 
58;  spat  on  and  struck,  324;  un¬ 
der  the  cross,  353  ;  the  wanderer, 
75»  76;  what  men  said  of  him, 
233,  235.  See  also  Christ 
Jewish  State,  reestablishment,  274 
Jews,  dispersal,  44,  272;  history, 
40;  in  Egypt,  42;  wanderings,  43 
Job,  1 16 

John,  83,  183,  184,  185,  315,  318;  at 
the  crucifixion,  371  ;  at  the  sepul¬ 
cher,  383 

John  the  Baptist,  54;  beheading  of, 
336  ;  imprisonment  and  death, 
69;  Jesus’  answer  to  him  in  pri¬ 
son,  137,  138 
Jonah,  131 

Jordan  and  John  the  Baptist,  54 
Joseph,  34,  2^ 

Joseph  of  Arimathea,  318,  377 
Joshua,  43 

Judas,  186,  202,  243;  Jesus’  under¬ 
standing  of,  284;  kiss  of,  311  ;  at 
the  Last  Supper,  290,  301  ;  mys¬ 


tery  of,  281  ;  sinning  woman  and, 
229;  wasted  ointment  and,  232 
Judea,  outbreak,  270 
Judging  others,  no 
Judgment  Day,  263,  265 
Justice,  1 18,  122,  124,  155;  hunger 
for,  90 

King  of  the  Jews,  330,  346,  351 
Kingdom  of  Heaven  (of  God),  66, 
6S,  71,  93  ;  chief  places  in,  157, 
184;  children — of  such  is  the 
Kingdom,  217;  definition,  72; 
force  and,  205  ;  like  mustard  seed, 

151 

Kingdom  of  Satan,  72,  196 
Kingdoms  of  the  earth,  63,  65,  67, 
72 

Kings,  at  the  birth  of  Jesus,  25;  of 
the  nations,  204 
Kiss  of  Judas,  311 
Knowledge,  25 

Lama  sabachthani,  372 
Lamps,  156 
Land  of  Promise,  42 
Lao-Tse,  113 
Last  and  first,  180 
Last  judgment,  263,  265 
Last  Supper,  288 
Last  things,  259 

Law,  122,  124;  old  and  new,  99 
Lazarus,  140,  220 
Lazarus,  the  beggar,  173 
Legs,  breaking,  366,  375 
Leopardi,  Giacomo,  95 
Lepers,  135 
Liberator,  299,  384 
Life,  5;  eternal,  264,  400;  Jesus’ 
knowledge  of,  60  ;  revaluation  of, 
93;  true,  no 

Light,  Jesus’  Transfiguration,  239 
Lives  of  Christ,  kind  we  need,  10; 

two  kinds,  7 
Logia,  12,  186 
Longinus,  375 

Lord’s  Prayer,  exposition,  128 
Losing  one’s  soul,  196 
Lost  found,  32 
Lost  sheep,  170 

Love,  antiquity  and,  111-121; 
Christ’s  command,  121  ;  Christ’s 
for  sinners,  59;  experiment  of, 
125;  filial,  103;  mutual  and  uni¬ 
versal,  1 13;  for  one  another,  294; 
perfect,  37;  self,  in,  125;  woman 
who  loved  much,  229 


Lovest  thou  me?  403 
Luke-warmness,  188 


INDEX 


413 


Malchus,  31 1 

Mammon,  193,  196;  Temple  at 

Jerusalem  and,  249 
Man,  early  rules,  98;  perfectibility, 
97 

Manger,  21 
Maranatha,  243 
Mariamne,  27 
Mark,  313 

Marriage,  142,  209;  Cana,  141,  143 
Martha,  138,  140,  219 
Martyrs,  269 

Mary  (of  Bethany),  138,  140,  219, 
379 

Mary  (Virgin  Mother),  13,  222, 
371,  378,  379;  flight  into  Egypt, 
30 

Mary  Magdalene,  220,  224,  379; 

risen  Lord  and,  382 
Masons,  78 

Massacre  of  the  Innocents,  29 
Matthew,  185,  186,  282 
Meander,  268 
Meekness,  88 
Memory  of  Christ,  5 
Mental  diseases,  136 
Merciful,  90 
Mercy,  263,  265 
Messiah,  183  ;  material,  53,  65 
Messiahship,  49 
Messianic  prophecies,  50 
Metals,  189,  201 
Miracles,  66,  67,  13 1,  136 
Money,  banks,  exchange,  etc.,  250; 
curse  of,  220;  Jesus  and,  201, 
202;  Judas  and,  282 
Money-changers,  249 
Mosaic  law,  115 

Moses,  30  ;  deliverance  of  Jews 
from  Egypt,  42;  law  and  love, 
1 15;  sprinkling  of  blood,  299; 
with  Christ  on  Hermon,  240 
Moslems,  274 

Mount,  Sermon  on  the,  85,  94,  186 

Mountain,  Jesus  praying  on,  239 

Mourning,  89 

M’-Ti„ii2,  113 

Mud,  31 

Murder,  100 

Mustard  seed,  15 1 

Myrrh,  25 

Mysteries,  406;  Gethsemane,  306; 
human  nature,  234  ;  of  the  King¬ 
dom,  149 


Nails,  four,  359,  361 
Names,  secret  and  real,  234 
Nard,  224 
Narrow  gate,  156 
Nathaniel,  186 

Nature,  95;  antagonism  of  Jesus 
and,  109;  Jesus  and,  38;  over¬ 
turning,  108 
Nazarene,  351 

Nazareth,  any  good  thing  out  of? 
186;  boyhood  of  Jesus,  32;  fore¬ 
knowledge  of  Jesus,  49;  Joseph’s 
shop,  34 
Nazir,  54 

Negative  command,  117 
Neighbor,  172 
Nero,  269 

New  Covenant,  71,  299 

Nicodemus,  187,  278,  318,  377 

Nicolatians,  268 

Nirvana,  114 

Noah,  41 

Nomads,  41 

Nonresistance,  104,  107 

Oaths,  103 

Octavius  Augustus,  26 
Old  Adam,  59,  125 
Old  Covenant,  40,  299 
Old  ideas,  112 
Old  law,  117 

Old  Testament  morality,  116 
Older  son,  167,  169 
Olives,  Mount  of,  244,  245,  252, 
259,  302 
Ophir,  44 

Opinion  of  Christ,  modern,  19 
Other  cheek,  105,  106 
Overturnings  of  opinion,  94 
Ox,  22 

Paganism,  169 
Palazzo  Vecchio,  20 
Palm  branches,  246 
Parables,  131,  149,  151 
Paradise,  40,  43,  127,  213,  219;  for 
the  penitent  thief  on  the  cross, 
356 

Paradox,  93 
Parasceve,  352 
Parusia,  259,  262,  267,  273 
Passion,  beginning,  243 
Passover,  32,  288  295  ;  night  before, 
352 

Paternoster,  128,  215 
Patriarchs,  41 


414 


INDEX 


Paul,  269;  testimony  as  to  the  resur¬ 
rection,  397 
Peace,  208 

Peace  and  war,  190,  205 
Peacemakers,  91 
Peasants,  79 

Persecutions,  26,  91,  260,  268 
Peter,  268,  2^;  the  Rock,  181,  237. 

S^e  also  Simon  Peter 
Petronius,  375 
Pharaoh,  42 

Pharisees,  55,  io4,  I47,  253;  con¬ 
demnation  in  the  Temple,  255  ;  at 
Jesus’  entry  into  Jerusalem,  246; 
prayer  of,  and  Publican,  171 
Philip,  186 
Philo,  1 17 

Pilate,  Pontius,  243,  325;  fate,  350; 
Jesus  before,  329,  338;  last 

recorded  words,  351  ;  personality, 
326;  subterfuges,  342,  347,  348, 
349;  washing  of  hands,  346,  349; 
wife’s  dream,  333 
Pitcher,  man  with,  288,  289 
Pity,  171,  265,  354 
Plato,  1 18,  198,  199 
Pluto,  198,  199 
Poet,  Jesus  as,  150 
Poetry,  15 

Poor,  the,  Jesus’  love  of,  200; 
Jesus’  teaching,  77;  rich  and,  173, 
189,  194;  in  spirit,  87.  See  also 
Poverty 

Possession  by  devils,  136 
Poverty,  79,  109,  174;  disciples, 
189;  Jesus,  193;  voluntary,  197 
Prayer,  128;  Father,  forgive  them, 
356,  358,  363;  Jesus  in  Gethse- 
mane,  303,  309;  Jesus  on  the 
mountain,  239;  Lord’s  _  prayer, 
128;  Pharisee  and  Publican,  171 
Priam,  117,  120 
Priestly  caste,  276 
Primacy,  405 
Prodigal  son,  160-169 
Prophecy  of  Jesus  on  Last  Things, 
259,  266 

Prophets,  44,  45  ;  character,  47  ;  def¬ 
initions,  47,  48;  description,  46 
Prostitutes,  230 
Proverbs,  116 

Psalms,  imprecations  on  enemies, 
1 16 

Publicans,  56;  prayer  of  Publican 
and  Pharisee,  171 
Punishment,  eternal,  264 
Pure  in  heart,  90 


Purification,  104 
Purity,  no;  of  Jesus,  58 

Rabboni,  382 
Readiness,  155 
Reed,_  346,  373 

Religion,  as  a  business  in  Jerusa¬ 
lem,  276;  Roman,  327 
Religions  for  the  irreligious,  4 
Renan,  J.  E.,  9 

Renunciation,  152,  180,  196,  200, 
201 

Repentance,  59,  73,  363,  366 
Resurrection,  381  ;  doubts  about, 
388;  Evangelists’  testimony,  398; 
Paul’s  testimony,  397;  rejection, 
395 

Resurrections  from  the  dead,  138 
Retaliation,  90,  99;  Jesus’  repudia¬ 
tion  of  the  old  law,  105 
Revenge,  105 

Rich  and  poor,  173,  189,  194 

Rich  man,  194 

Righteousness,  114 

Risen  from  the  dead,  381 

Rock,  Caiaphas  and  Peter,  318; 

house  built  on,  158;  Peter,  237 
Roman  Emperor,  327 
Roman  Empire,  204;  upheaval,  269 
Roman  soldiers,  344,  356 
Rome  and  the  Christian  martyrs, 
269 

Sabbath,  Jesus  and,  254;  Jesus  at 
Capernaum,  77 

Sacrifice,  of  the  innocent  for  the 
guilty,  279;  pagan  examples,  279 
Sadducees,  55,  147 
Saints,  256,  351 
Salome,  336 
Salvation,  194 
Samaritan,  the  good,  172 
Samaritans,  172,  184 
Sanhedrin,  187,  278;  Jesus  before, 
318 

Satan,  Jesus  and,  63;  Jesus  and — 
Gethsemane,  303 
Saul,  43,  1 16 
Savonarola,  20 
Scarlet  cloak,  346 
Scourging,  343,  344 
Scribes,  242,  253;  condemnation  in 
the  Temple,  255 
Second  birth,  73,  187,  188 
Second  coming,  259,  262,  267;  date, 
273  ;  imminence,  274 
Second  covenant,  41 


INDEX 


415 


Secret  name,  234 
Secretiveness,  149 

Self-justification,  Socrates  and 
Jesus,  320 

Self-love,  III,  125,  126 
Self-preservation,  no 

Sell  all,  197 
Selling  Jesus,  286 
Seneca,  119 

Sepulcher,  Jesus  and,  378 
Sepulchers,  257 

Sermon  on  the  Mount,  85,  94,  186 

Sermon  on  the  Mount,  second,  259 

Sermons,  17 

Servant  of  all,  109 

Service,  185 

Sheba,  Queen  of,  44 

Sheep,  lost,  170 

Sheep  and  goats,  260,  263 

Shepherds,  23,  79 

Siclmess,  134 

Signs,  131 

Simon  of  Cyrene,  353,  355 
Simon  Magus,  267 
Simon  Peter,  82,  148,  180;  confes¬ 
sion  of  Christ,  236;  contradictory 
acts,  311,  312;  denial,  315;  pri¬ 
macy  and  martyrdom  granted  to, 
403,  405  ;  at  the  sepulcher,  383  ; 
sinning  woman  and,  229 
Simplicity,  no,  178,  219 
Sin,  loi,  126;  against  the  spirit, 
255  ;  forgiveness  of,  231  ;  he  that 
is  without  sin,  223  ;  in  Jesus’  life, 
58;  parables  of,  170;  sacrifice  of 
the  innocent  for,  279 
Sinlessness  of  Jesus,  58 
Sinners,  175;  converted,  59 
Skull,  Hill  of  the,  357,  359,  37i 
Sleep,  181;  infant  Jesus  and,  30; 
of  the  three  disciples  on  the 
Mount  of  Olives,  306,  310 
Smiths,  78 
Snow  and  sun,  238 
Socrates,  320;  on  enemies,  118 
Solitude,  61  ;  of  Jesus,  307 
Solomon,  44 
Son  of  David,  246 
Son  of  God,  236,  238;  question  put 
to  Jesus,  321 

Son  of  Man,  236,  238,  262,  263,  273, 

274 

Sons,  160;  fathers  and,  213 
Sons  of  Thunder,  183 
Sonship,  37 
Soul,  losing,  196 
Sower,  parable  of,  158 


Spinoza,  185 

Spirit,  62.  196,  406  ;  sin  against, 
255  ;  victory  over  the  flesh,  308 
Spitting  on  Jesus,  324 
Sponge  soaked  in  vinegar,  373 
Stable,  21 
Stephen,  268 
Steward,  160,  174 
Stoics,  198 

Stones,  crying  out,  247  ;  disciples 
compared  to,  266;  not  one  upon 
another,  258 
Suffering,  134 
Sun  and  snow,  238 
Sunday,  380 
Superiority,  185 
Supper,  last,  2^ 

Swearing,  102 
Sweat  of  Jesus,  306 
Swine-herds,  164 

Sword,  fire  and,  205,  208;  not  peace 
but  a  sword,  206 

Talents,  parable  of,  159 
Talitha  qumi,  138 
Tares  and  wheat,  175 
Teachers  of  Jesus,  34 
Teaching  of  Jesus,  at  Capernaum, 
77;  earliest,  71,  74 
Tebutis,  268 

Temple,  45;  description,  247;  de¬ 
struction,  272  ;  destruction  fore¬ 
told,  258,  261;  Jesus’  entry  and 
purpose,  248;  Jesus  lost  and 
found  in,  33  ;  place  of  business  in 
Jewish  life,  275;  ramification, 
250;  veil,  374 

Temptations  of  Jesus,  64,  303 
Ten  Commandments,  43 
Theology,  12,  25 
Theudas,  267 

Thief  on  the  cross,  penitent,  363 
Thieves,  two,  352,  356,  363 
Third  Covenant,  42 
Thirst  of  Jesus  on  the  cross,  373 
Thomas,  133,  185;  doubts,  392 
Thomas  Aquinas,  185 
Thorns,  346 
Tiberius,  326,  331 
Time,  fullness  of,  71 
Titus,  272 
Too  late,  155,  156 
Transfiguration,  182,  183,  239,  241 
Transformation  of  soul,  73,  74,  95, 
97,  108, 

Truth,  15;  sin  against,  255;  what  is 
truth?  329,  332 


INDEX 


416 

Turning  the  other  cheek,  105,  106 
Twelve,  the,  176.  See  also  Dis¬ 
ciples 

Ulysses,  118 

Vaddhamana,  198 
Vagabondage  of  Jesus,  76 
Vanity,  109,  177 
Veil  of  the  temple,  374 
Vespasian,  272 
Vinegar,  373 

Vineyard,  laborers  in,  155 
Violence,  205,  208;  possible  ways  of 
meeting,  105  ;  solving  the  prob¬ 
lem,  107 
Vipers,  252,  256 
Virgil,  26,  27 

Virgin  Mother,  13,  222,  371,  378, 
379 

Virgins,  wise  and  foolish,  156 

Walking  on  the  water,  182 
Wandering  Jew,  76 
War,  91,  122,  206,  209;  wars  and 
rumors  of  wars,  269 
Warnings,  260 
Washing  of  the  feet,  292 
Washing  of  the  hands,  346,  349 
Watch  and  pray,  307 
Water,  blood  and,  from  body  of 
Jesus,  375;  of  truth,  192;  turned 
into  wine,  143;  walking  on,  182 


Wealth,  124,  174,  194;  ancient  feel¬ 
ing  toward,  199 
Weddings,  141 
What  I  have  written,  351 
Wheat  and  tares,  175 
White  cloak,  335,  337,  344 
Whited  sepulchers,  257 
Who  am  I?  233 
Will  of  God,  309 
Wind  and  sea  obedient,  147 
Wine,  143,  295,  301  ;  as  the  blood 
of  Christ,  299;  mixture  offered 
Jesus  on  the  cross,  358 
Wise  men,  24 
Witnesses,  false,  319 
Women,  Jesus  and,  219;  with  Jesus 
on  Golgotha,  371  ;  old  law  and, 
222;  Roman,  334;  at  the  sepul¬ 
cher,  380;  woman  who  was  a  sin¬ 
ner,  224 

Woodworker,  34 
Work,  35 

Writing  on  the  sand,  223 


Ye  have  heard,  98 
Yeast,  151 


Zarathushtra,  5,  114 
Zealots,  268,  271,  272,  341 
Zebedee’s  sons,  83 
Zeus,  120,  121  p 


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